Make Them Hear You
by Ronnie.icklekins.is.red.hot
Summary: “So, who’s the lucky lass anyway?” George asked as he shoved a biscuit in Ron’s mouth not only to keep him from telling, but also for enjoyment on this boring Thursday. If cant read entire story, just read 30 on. Please, this is the first story I've tried
1. Chapter 1

-11.

"Why are we taking this class again?" Ron whined as he, Hermione, and Harry headed up to the West Tower for what was sure to be sheer torture (at least by Ron's standards).

Hermione rolled her eyes for the fifteenth time that day. "Because, knowing about Muggles is part of living in a world with Muggles in it."

Harry wasn't thrilled about this either. "But why me? I grew up thinking I was a Muggle, doesn't that count for anything?"

"C'mon, if I'm doing this, you are too," Ron huffed defiantly.

Hermione shook her head, ignoring Ron, "Yeah, but know you gotta learn about them from a wizard's point of view. Two completely different things."

Ron knew that there was no wavering Hermione, but he still didn't favor this at all. Hermione was practically controlling them! He wasn't just going to keep quiet. He turned his head to give a death glare, only to turn hurriedly away at the warning in her own determined look, which was much more forceful than his own. Why did she have to be so smart?

Harry trudged up the stairs behind his two faithful friends, chuckling for a moment about the glare contest between them. He knew them too well, and that after each fight they will always, always remain friends.

Why are boys such babies? Hermione thought menacingly, regretting for a moment that she even put them up to this. One day, they would thank her, she knew it; someone had to keep them in line, otherwise they would go nowhere. To be honest, she liked it, it made her feel…needed. She glanced again at Ron, his sour face glaring at the steps and couldn't help but smile.

"Where is this class?" Harry asked after a few more flights of the stone, spiraling stairs. He could feel a charlie-horse forming in an unseemly place, and by now Hermione and Ron had gotten over their angry silence.

"Just up one more floor," she promised, secretly glad that she had so much self-control, otherwise by now her two best friends would both have bloody noses.

When they entered the room, it seemed only the desks were organized in rows; everything else was thrown here and there. Piles of books, packets of papers, bunches of quill pens, and bottles of ink layered themselves on any flat surface. Ron immediately felt at home, while Hermione had to refrain from picking up anything disorganized in sight.

They exchanged bemused glances, they thought they were going to be late, but no one else seemed to be there, and Hermione called out, "Hello?"

A little teetering man came out from the office in the far left corner, popping his head from behind the walnut door. His face was a little pink, and he had a shiny bald head that reflected the sun coming through the only window like a rounded mirror. The man was holding a few colorful notebooks, the papers all shuffled inside of them and the corners sticking out.

"Yes, yes, just a moment!" he called back before ducking back into the room, his voice cracking only slightly. Harry, Ron, and Hermione shrugged and set their stuff down in the front corner of desks.

"What do you think-?," Ron started, but the little man came back and Ron decided it would be most polite if he didn't talk about the man while he was there; especially considering he was sitting next to Hermione. Fewer bruises equaled a happier Ron.

The stout man walked up to the desk sitting in front of the blackboard, first clearing a spot before setting down his pile of notebooks on the center of the desktop. He turned towards the blackboard, then crouched down a little bit, that was all he needed, and began to examine the chalk tray, inspecting it carefully.

Ron looked over at Harry and Hermione and twirled his finger near his head, motioning a suggestion about the man's sanity. Hermione shot him a look, and he quit it only because the man had stopped studying the chalk tray after finding a piece of chalk that fit his standards.

He was raising the chalk up to the board, only he hesitated and turned towards his three students. "Should I write my name?" he asked them, his face turning a darker hue of pink.

Hermione nodded, feeling sorry for him. "That sounds like a good idea." The man nodded and began to write in his chaotic and scrawled handwriting, 'Professor Krehope'. Ron mouthed 'Suck up' to Harry before Hermione could catch him, but was too late and he received a pelt on the arm as Harry stifled a laugh and Hermione pertinently raised her hand.

"Yes?" Professor Krehope questioned nervously, his eye closing a little as if expecting a similar slap.

Hermione asked in a kind voice, "Professor Krehope, where is the rest of the class?"

He rummaged through his shuffled papers, only taking a moment or two to find the right one. "Well, I suppose that they are still trying to find the class. Who are you three?"

"Hermione Granger, Ronald Weasley, and Harry Potter." Ron answered lazily after massaging his arm, leaning back in his chair and rocking it back onto the back two legs.

"Well, yes, that would leave an absent nine people." Professor Krehope announced, triggering Ron to almost fall and possibly acquire more bruises.

"We only have eleven people in this class?" he asked incredulously.

"Actually, that would be twelve," Harry corrected, knowing what Ron was about say.

Ron turned towards Hermione, " 'Knowing about Muggles is part of living in a world with Muggles in it?' That's rich, considering that only nine other people in the entire school who think so."

"Well, it was this or Divination again," Hermione replied as she tried to block the recollection of the fraud that somehow became a teacher.

Ron scoffed. "You're right, which would we rather get? An old bat telling us that Harry's going to die at any moment, no offense Harry,-"

"None taken."

"-or people that barely relate to us?" Ron continued, causing Hermione roll her eyes for the sixteenth time for that day.

Professor Krehope stopped what he was doing and stared at the three, his usual pink-colored face now growing darker at his cheeks and rising to his ears. " 'People that barely relate to us?' These people are not magically gifted, that's true, but they have been here as long as we have, they're not extinct."

Ron's ears began to match Professor Krehope's as the teacher continued, his steam building up and preparing him to go on for days: "Any people, race, or gender deserves the right to be recognized as equal, whether they meet up to someone's expectations or not." He walked back to his pile of papers and, pulling two or three out from the middle, sat down in his desk and began to vigorously write on them.

Ron put all the legs of the chair on the floor, his shame growing as his head lowered. Harry and Hermione were about to comfort him, but the rest of the class burst in.

"Got lost! So sorry!" a few proclaimed as they barged in and slammed their books down on the desks.

Professor Krehope just acknowledged them with a nod and stood up, his hands sweating and shaking. He had never taught a class before, how would they treat him? Will they let him live?

He had spent the previous week reading Muggle books based off of teenage behavior. It was amazing how accurate they sounded. He didn't know if they were even true, but right now it was comforting to think he had prepared for this, this chaoticgroup of kids. He gripped his hands together nervously, trying to not show his obvious fright.

A flash of his own adolescent years came to him, reminding him of how many times he had been mocked, of how many days he had wished he wasn't short, how many weeks he had been shunned by what he had thought were friends, and how many years he had spent studying his life away, hoping to become a positive influence on kids like this. Now that he was here, he wasn't sure that this is what he wanted.

But he was stuck with it. He sucked in a breath, held it tightly in his gut, and began his first what was sure to be a mortifying class.


	2. Chapter 2

-Hey, luvtobeanonymous, I got my eye on you! jk

2.

"Good morning," Professor Krehope started as the kids began to quiet down. Good, he thought, they can listen. "In this class, you will be learning the aspects of the Muggle race." He stopped, horrified that he couldn't remember the rest of the speech he wrote last night. He frantically racked his brain for the next stanza, but he came up empty.

The class began to whisper among themselves. Oh no, he thought, they already hate me. I look like an idiot. C'mon what comes next?

"What is up with this guy?" Seamus Finnigan muttered to his friend Dean Thomas, who shrugged in reply. Many of the other students were whispering the same question-no-answer. Ron hadn't bothered to contribute though, he was busy twirling his finger next to his head again and signaling to the teacher behind Hermione's unwatchful back. Too bad she caught him and whacked him again, sending Harry into a fit of laughs.

Still not remembering what came next, Professor Krehope decided that he should just try and talk to them as if they were adults, advice he picked up from 'Researching the Teen Race', by Dr. Reandall, p. 95. Dr. Reandall sounded pretty sure about this 'treat them with respect' thing.

"In this class, we will be doing more experimental activities than researching in the book," he started again. Harry and Ron both glanced at Hermione, whose lip was pouting out a little, and chuckled to themselves.

Professor Krehope misinterpreted the chuckle and went on, "Well, we will learn aspects from the book, but to really learn about a living breathing people, we need to experience them as much as we read them." They just stared at him, triggering him to sweat and turn red as if he was his anxious student-self all over again.

Hermione was a bit happier with this addition, and she sat up straighter, ready to learn anything new. Ron and Harry laughed under their breaths again, it seems Hermione could ever hate a class, save Divination.

Professor Krehope peeked at his lesson plan, which he had just scribbled some notes on.

1. Introduce self.

Oops, I skipped that, he realized.

"My name is Professor Krehope," he told them, underlining his name on the board with his hand. They nodded towards him, then began to whisper amongst themselves again. Oh, that aggravated him, he knew they were talking about him, why hide it? "Why do you guys do that?" he thought aloud, instantly regretting even opening his mouth as they turned back towards him with intimidating looks on their faces.

Ron and Harry looked at each other, Ron mouthing 'Is he serious?' Harry shrugged, mouthing back 'Guess so'. Hermione read their conversation, and butted in, as usual, with her 'Listen to the teacher!'

A girl in the middle row raised her hand, and he called on her. "Yes, Miss..?" Professor Krehope asked.

"Luna Lovegood," she answered politely. Ron, Harry, and Hermione turned towards her, all thinking the same thing: 'What will she entertain us with today?'

"They are whispering about you. Some say that you are a loony. I find that most surprising because I think you are quite normal," she continued, not really caring that the class had just about burst with laughter.

Professor Krehope's face turned beat red. I knew it, those books were crap. I'll just have to confront them myself, he thought with a shudder.

"Man, this guy is a newbie, isn't he?" Dean whispered to Seamus. Seamus smiled, and mouthed back, 'Fresh meat'.

"Okay, listen up." Professor Krehope started. Astoundingly, they did. He began again: "I'm new at this, I've never taught before. But that doesn't mean that I won't punish you, or reward you for that matter. This class needs maturity from it's participants, and if you don't have that, get out right now, I don't want to deal with you."

No one moved. Professor Krehope sighed with relief, he had no idea what he would have done if anyone had. "Right, well, open your books to page six."

He sat down in his desk chair, thankful for the few moments he had to breathe before he started up again. "Right, now, what does the first line tell us?"

A few hesitant hands rose, among them the red-haired kid who didn't think Muggles were worth studying. "Yes? Mr.…?"

"Ronald Weasley."

"Go ahead please, Mr. Weasley."

Ron cleared his throat. " 'The term 'Muggle' is used to define those who do not possess magical power.' "

Professor Krehope rose from his seat, carrying his book in his palm. "Continue, if you will."

Ron's heart skipped a beat, he was never good at doing things under pressure, but went on: " 'Laws have been written for the majority of the Muggle population to keep them from finding out about magic, and since then Muggles have been regarded as…' " Ron stopped.

"Please go on, Mr. Weasley."

" '…as insignificant and unintelligent,' " he finished, his ears turning the same red hue as on his Gryffindor tie.

Professor Krehope snapped his book shut. "My sole purpose as the teacher of this class is to make you realize one thing: That was a lie. How I do so will seem a little abnormal, but nonetheless I promise, by the time this year is over, you will never see Muggles the same way again."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3.

Professor Krehope continued his lesson, "Now, for the remainder of the class period I would like you all just to read chapter eight out of the book today. Tomorrow we will start with the experimental learning."

Hermione's bottom lip began to curl out again, she was not happy with this. They read page six, but not pages one through five. They are reading chapter eight even though they don't have a _clue_ what one through seven was about.

Ron and Harry leafed through their books to the later chapter, content to be skipping all the text in-between. Ron turned towards Hermione, finding her back to an unhappy mood. He didn't chuckle this time, he knew her frustration might cause her to do extra work. That meant more time shoved in the corner of the library than hanging out with him and Harry. Oh well, better start reading…

The greater part of the class was finished with the chapter in twenty minutes, and they sat there quietly because Professor Krehope was sitting right in front of the room at his desk, absorbed some Muggle material.

Seamus mutely passed a note to Dean, his eyes bright with excitement. Dean took it and, after reading its contents, turned towards Seamus and nodded.

Dean reached stealthily into his pocket, pulling out his wand. Almost wordlessly, he twirled it at the front board, rearranging the letters formef by 'Professor Krehope' to say: 'homemade Poop 4 free', making the 4 out of the 'k' and a few extra letters jumbled up to form the word 'homemade'.

Stifled chuckles surfaced from the class, but Professor Krehope was too engrossed in his Muggle novel to pay attention.

With the lingering ten minutes, other students broke out their wands to pick up the chalk and write other similarly pleasant messages on the board, proving that creativity can grow with age. When the bell sounded, the class emptied quickly, and Hermione (who had been reading chapters one through eight) glanced up and noticed the appalling messages on the board.

"Professor Krehope? You might want to look at the board," she hinted while piling her books up. Harry and Ron where waiting outside the classroom for her, she had to get moving.

"Thank you, Ms. Granger," he said as he picked up an eraser and began to swipe the cutting words away.

She nodded and left, meeting up with her friends afterward. "Hey, did you two know what was going on?"

"No, we didn't, we thought the chalk was writing itself in insulting messages," Ron replied, smiling too much for Hermione to like.

"Hermione, what did you expect? That guy has got to have less guts to him than Pettigrew," Harry said as Ron laughed and high-fived Harry behind Hermione's back.

Hermione whacked Ron, "Ron, just because 'maturity' isn't in your vocabulary doesn't mean that you should be an idiot."

Ron sighed, "Aw, c'mon Hermione, don't go sounding like my mother. Besides, he's teaching a bunch of teenagers, what does he honestly expect? A room full of Hermione's?"

Hermione huffed and her chin stuck up a little, not really mad but more irritated at what she realized: Ron is never going to change.

Harry smiled again at his friends, realizing that Hermione telling Ron to be 'mature' is just a waste of breath. Besides, this is Ron, not Hermione. "Hey Hermione, what do you think he meant by 'experimental learning'? Are we going to leave the school grounds?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, I don't think so. It's something inside the classroom yet I think."

Ron sighed, "Well, maybe we'll make a light bulb light up. Bet Dad could help me there, he loves that stuff. That wouldn't be _cheating_ really, would it?"

Hermione rolled her eyes for the seventeenth time, finally giving up.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4.

The rest of the day was typical, as well as the meeting-up with Fred and George at lunch to talk about the new teacher. 'Talking' roughly translated to 'bashing' in this case.

"What do you make of the nutter?" Fred started the conversation as he and George walloped their books on the table. Hermione, who at first jumped at the sound, now took it as a signal that two particular twins just landed at the site.

"He's not a nutter, he-," Hermione started.

"Just stops to think and then forgets to start again," Ron helpfully completed, almost getting slapped on the arm again by Hermione.

Fred and George decided Ron should get slapped anyway, and proceeded to do so. "Ron, show some respect. He's a teacher." Fred mocked Hermione while twirling his finger in his four-inch long hair.

"Yes, Ron, all teachers are perfect, like me, so be nice," George supplied. Fred and George high-fived each other and sat down.

"Besides, we have Hermione and Harry to help us pass that class, don't we George?" Fred asked his brother.

"Wait, you two are taking that class?" Harry asked disbelievingly.

"Yep, and it's going to be one fun year."

"He won't ever teach again."

"If we're lucky, we may scar him emotionally for life."

"Maybe physically too."

"Well, I'm not going to help you then," Hermione stated matter-of-factly.

"Aw, we's just kidding, Hermy." Fred crooned, his eyes becoming large, round, and hopeful like a puppy's.

"Yeah, we's don't mean it," Ron droned, trying to get in on the help and getting a smack from Fred.

"You're not helping, Ronniekins," he muttered from the corner of his mouth.

"Best be off, more dangerous pranks to plan and all that jazz," George said, dragging his brother away from the table before a massive food fight went down, no matter how much he would have enjoyed it.

Harry watched them leave. "I feel so bad for Professor Krehope."

"Amen," Ron chorused. He glimpsed back at Hermione, "Hey, what are you doing?"

She looked up from her pile of books, "Working."

"But that essay for Transfiguration-,"

"No, I'm reading the rest of the Muggle Studies book," Hermione explained as if it was logical.

"Why on earth would you? We only had to read chapter eight," Harry argued. Hermione frowned.

"Well, I want to read the entire book, it might be useful."

Ron laughed, "Hermione, you would read the entire _library_ if it was useful. Say, have you?"

Hermione stuck out her tongue and continued to read, leaving Harry and Ron free to talk.

"Ron, are you trying out for Quidditch again?" Harry asked after spooning a bite of chicken soup in his mouth.

Ron's ears turned pink as he became fascinated with his own soup. "Uh, I don't know, I didn't do so well last year."

"Oh, c'mon, it would be great to have you on again. Besides, you won't get better unless you practice," Harry tried. The truth was, he just liked having him on the team, despite his less than miraculous skills.

Ron smiled, "Okay, I will." Harry smiled too, glad he had something to look forward to tomorrow.

* * *

That night, a certain professor sat up writing. His lesson plans done for the next month or so, he just needed to verify a few things. For one, most Muggles weren't so eager to do what the recipient of this letter was willing to do. Second, he wasn't sure if it would be school appropriate, so he just better make sure he didn't get fired.

He sat up in his chair, his letter finished. He would mail it in the morning, but now he just glanced about his cramped and dusty room, seeing the same cluttered mess he made everywhere he went. How could this ever truly be his home?

Sighing, he got up and headed to bed, and after pulling away the piles of clothes and papers, climbed in for what was the end of his first day.

He pulled the covers to his chin, reminiscing about the day. The red-head twins in his fourth class were going to be a handful, but he was certain that this class would change them. The second years were a rowdy bunch that just needed reminding that quiet minds are happy minds.

And lastly, he got to do it all again tomorrow.

* * *

**I know it's kinda slow now, but it gets better, so hang in there. **


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5.

The next day went much more smoothly for Harry. For one, he could find all his classes much faster, which is a miracle in itself. Two, as Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, he was going to be able to put up the sign up sheets for try-outs today. He had no idea why, but that pleased him more than it probably should.

Ready for lunch to roll around, he went to Muggle Studies, his last class before he went to the Great Hall. Ron, Hermione, and he headed up to the West tower, not knowing what to expect.

"So, how was the Muggle book, Hermione?" Ron asked as the began to trudge their way up the dozen or so flights of stairs.

Hermione actually laughed a little, "So predictable. I mean, whoever wrote that had the imagination of Professor Trelawney."

"What did it say?" Harry asked.

"Oh, just a bunch of statistics on how many Muggles believe in omens and signs, stuff like that. How many Muggles voluntarily marry wizards knowing what they are, the differences in wizard and Muggle behavior, why Muggles need electricity…"

"So, any of it useful?" Ron mockingly questioned. Hermione narrowed her eyes playfully.

"Just a little bit. I'm still glad I read it, if that's what you're asking."

Ron stared at the steps sourly as the continued to climb, muttering something under his breath that sounded like "brain-iac". Hermione just pretended she didn't hear it, and Harry merely smiled to himself.

They walked in like the day before, setting their books down on the same desks, and they could hear Professor Krehope rummaging through his room, something they were already getting used to.

The class soon followed in, a bit earlier than yesterday, and they talked a while as they waited for their professor to come out.

When he did come out, he held in his hands a massive pile of notebooks, these ones unshuffled and uncrimpled. He set them down with care on his desk, then scooted back to his room. He came out again with a tall pile of, well, they didn't know. All that they could see was a pile of large manila envelopes, each marked 'CAUTION: FRAGILE'.

By now the class was dead quiet as Professor Krehope wiped the sweat off his brow and plumped down in his chair. Physical exercise was something towards the bottom on his to-do list, that much was obvious.

They waited quietly as he breathed, and when he finished his break, he stood up and ignored the piles as he walked around to the front of the room.

"Good morning class," he welcomed them. His greeting, appallingly, was not lackluster or nervous as the previous day's, but it was excited, as if he held a gigantic secret in his shiny bald head.

"Good morning, Professor," they replied, surprised as much as you are.

He seemed pleased with their silent nature and the monotone reply. "Good! Today is the day you are tested."

Hermione began to frantically page through her book. Professor Krehope caught sight of that and began to laugh a large, booming laugh that a man of his size should never be able to produce, startling them even more.

"No, no, not like a test. Well, yes, it is a test, but not on the text. It's not a text-test," he paused to chuckle at his little play on words. Seamus and Dean shared a glance similar to that of Ron and Harry's, which clearly stated 'Oh yeah, he's gone'.

"No, no, this is test on yourselves. I want all of you to take this project, that will determine 95 of your grade, with a serious mind. I have not been given full permission to do this project, and I will not be continuing this job if it doesn't work out."

By now all the students were on the edge of their seats, especially Hermione. She loved a good challenge, something to really test her wits. Ron had other thoughts, like if he failed this project would he have to take it next year?, and only sat on the edge of his chair as to catch any hints that might help him succeed. Our Harry leaned on his seat only because he, like the majority of the class, suddenly felt impelled by what Professor Krehope might classify as a 'challenge'.

Professor Krehope waddled back to his first pile, the pile of notebooks, and grabbed enough for half the class. "I need you all to pair up into pairs of your choice."

Immediately Ron, Harry, and Hermione glanced at each other. Pairs were always a cause of arguments in the trio.

A particular shy girl from Ravenclaw, Beatrice Credence, was left alone in the corner of the room, painstakingly used to this overlooking on her. She scanned the room, noting the happy Seamus and Dean and other pairs, and then the trio sitting in the opposite corner.

Now, Beatrice is not an average girl. Instead of becoming overjoyed at the fact she would either partner up with the Great Harry Potter, the Humorous Ronald Weasley, or the Witty Hermione Granger, (as many other girls in her case would be, especially with the first two), she felt ashamed. She knew none of them would want to be her partner, and she felt as if she was burdening herself on them.

Sighing and grabbing her large stack of books, most of which had nothing to do with her classes but for enjoyment instead, she headed over to the trio, who hadn't spoken.

"Well, last time I partnered up with Harry, so you two should partner up," Ron started.

"No, in Herbology today I partnered up with Ron, so you two should partner up," Hermione objected.

"Um, excuse me?" someone voiced from behind Harry. Harry turned around to see a Ravenclaw girl with far too many books and deep brown hair and eyes. "Um, whoever is left here I have to partner up with, if you don't mind," she added, again wishing she were anywhere but here.

The trio glanced at each other, waiting for someone to speak. Harry sighed, "That'd be me," and he got up and snatched his stuff.

Ron looked at Hermione and, seeing her face, skeptically asked, "What?"

She half-smiled, "Will you please help at least?"

He rolled his eyes, "Yeah, but I don't know what good it'll do."

Harry was about to ask the girl what all the books were for as they sat down at a pair of desks, but Professor Krehope interrupted. "Right, everyone got a partner?" He took a minute to check over the class. "Good. Will one partner please stand?"

Harry, expecting the girl to remain sitting, began to stand but stopped as she did so before him. He slowly sat back down, and received a mocking smile from her. He sat back in his chair, annoyed that someone was acting all brave when they've never endured pain like he has…

Oh no, maybe I should have let him stand, Beatrice debated after he sat back down. She tried to smile, personally surprised she beat him, and received a glare from him. What a stuck-up, just because he's a 'legend'…

Ron stood up, it was the least he could do. He knew that somehow she would make him feel guilty for not helping out sooner or later, so he might as well try to help out now.

"Good," Professor Krehope repeated, "To those standing, you will be receiving a manila envelope." He began to pass them out, setting them on the desks in front of those standing. "Do not touch yet."

"Now, those sitting please come here and grab two notebooks, one green and one red," Professor Krehope said as he now began to sort the notebooks by the according color. Harry and Hermione both went to the front of the room, smiling to each other as they grabbed two notebooks and returned to their seats.

"If you could please write on the green cover, 'Wizard', and on the red, 'Muggle', that would be most helpful," Professor Krehope continued to say, his hands clasped behind his back and smiling as he rocked a little on his heels.

Harry got out his quill and ink, and found that the girl was already writing 'Muggle' on one for him and was leaving the other for him to do.

Beatrice finished writing the heading on the red cover and sat back as Harry finished his. She didn't want the 'legend' to cramp his hand, the stupid wart he is…besides, she was already bored with this class, and it was plain to see that Harry the Great didn't want her as a partner. How predictable.

Professor Krehope grinned, the first class was going well. "Now, this project is going to test two things of you. One, your honesty. No cheating or lying whatsoever, or the cheater and his partner will receive a punishment of my choice. Two, all of you will be tested on your ability to sympathize." He glanced at the clock, seeing that they had ample time left. "Alright, will all you with the manila envelopes please open them carefully, and we'll begin the project."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6.

Beatrice gently folded back the tab with her thin hands, which seemed out of place since she wasn't as matchingly thin, but more on the average side. She ate right, (except on holidays), and went on numerous runs, but she would never be a thin beauty like her older sisters. Right now she concentrated on lifting the heavy object from the folder without breaking it in front of the entire class.

Harry leaned close to see what it was, then sat back when he saw it was a mirror. What good is a _mirror_ going to do?

Ron pulled out the aged mirror, glancing at it before handing it off to Hermione. She checked it over, twirling it between her hands before catching sight of herself in the mirror. Ron expected her to smile or make a funny face, that's what he would have done. Instead, she handed it back as quickly as she received it, her eyes serious.

"What?" she asked when she noticed his awkward stare.

"Nothing, it's just you acted all...never mind," he gave up, never understanding Hermione.

Beatrice saw the mirror, and instead of looking at the face she saw, she turned it over to see the markings she had felt on the back. Harry, surprised she didn't bother to see herself, (it's kind of like feminine nature to want to see yourself in the mirror, isn't it?), leaned in too.

There seemed to be the name 'Derek' etched very, very lightly into the wood. Beatrice showed Harry, and he just shrugged, not knowing any Derek's, but still committing it to memory just in case. She continued to glance at it, her stare concentrated, but looked up when Professor Krehope began to lecture again, the students only seeing an earnest face when in reality his stomach was fluttering:

"Now, this mirror is a One-Way Mirror. It does not let you communicate with the person who has the other, but you will be able to watch what ever happens in front of their mirror, somewhat like a window into their world. They will only see a mirror, and they do not have the knowledge of you seeing what they see."

He walked around the room now as he spoke, his face simple and thorough, "Your job is to watch the mirror for one half-hour every night and during this class period, and record the happenings in note form in the 'Muggle' notebook. Don't write it all out with sharp detail and in long scrolls. Just write 'brushed teeth' or whatever. Okay?" He waited for an answer, wanting to make sure they understood what he wanted of them.

"Yes, Professor," they chorused, most not sure what to think.

Professor Krehope nodded and continued to pace the room. "Good, now that is just for the person with the mirror. The other partner will be writing a similar diary-like entry in the 'Wizard' notebook. For each day, I want you to write at least two pages. Listen carefully, I do not want entries such as 'I went to the park. We had fun. We picked flowers.' I could write that in my sleep! No, I want you to pour out your thoughts, every single one, in complex sentences, with voice and word choice, alright?"

He laughed a little, his face softening a little, "Oh, and to make sure you do so, I will not be reading every entry as to ensure you privacy. However, at the beginning of each class I will check to see that something is written, and not in choppy, brainless sentences."

Professor Krehope headed back to his desk, on which sat his lesson plan. He only had one topic yet to hit, he read nervously. Speaking wasn't his favorite thing to do in front of a group of judgmental teens.

"Any questions so far?" he asked, not seeing any hands and momentarily happy, "Okay then, for the last part of this assignment, I need you all to listen up."

He paused, making sure he had all eyes on him as he whispered, "Can you hear me?"

They leaned closer, barely able to catch as he repeated it, "Can you hear me?" They nodded, only just hearing it.

"Secrecy!" He boomed, making them all jump. He returned to a normal tone, a smile gleaming on his face and spreading to the students, "Secrecy. You must all keep your findings, entries, and notes to yourselves. I will know if anyone even mentioned something to another person, alright? Everything in this project, including the name of your person, must not be told to a single soul. Everyone raise their right hand."

He waited as the class gingerly rose them. "C'mon, c'mon, raise them high!" They did so, not to sure if this guy should be with kids on a daily basis.

"Good, repeat after me. 'I promise to keep anything and everything',"

"I promise to keep anything and everything,"

" 'Concerning or mentioning this project',"

"Concerning or mentioning this project,"

" 'A complete secret, meaning I will not tell a soul'." He put his hand down.

"A complete secret, meaning I will not tell a soul." They also put their hands down.

He nodded, "Now, if anyone lets anything, and I mean anything, slip, you will not be here anymore. Can I trust you with that?" He asked sternly. No one answered, who would want to be regarded as a kid and say no?

"Really guys, can I trust you with it? This needs to be taken seriously, okay?" They nodded, what were they going to do, shake their heads? Really, they could be trusted.

He charismatically smiled and clapped his hands, "On that note, today is your first day. Tonight those with the mirrors will record for one half-hour, and those with the other notebooks will write journal entries. We will do this project for approximately three months. Any questions?"

Hermione raised her hand, a small look of curiosity on her face, "Professor Krehope?"

"Yes?"

"Is this _all_ we're doing for three months? Nothing else at all?"

He smiled at her question, glad that he knew the exact answer, "Yes, we will mostly be doing this."

Hermione nodded, and he went back to his chair to sit down. "Well," he asked after a second, "what are you waiting for?"

Beatrice picked up her antique mirror and Harry opened his notebook, both not sure how to start. Harry glanced at her as she glimpsed at him, and they quickly turned back, eager to do better than the other.

Ron handled the mirror, not sure what to do. He peeked at Hermione, who was already writing a lengthy sentence in the notebook. 'Why are boys such bab-' was all Ron could catch before her arm covered the rest.

Ron slid the mirror back into the envelope, thinking about what he might see tonight. As he did so, he noticed a small name encrypted on the back, 'Anna Maria'.

Ron turned around to see Harry and his partner leaning close to their works, each working hard as, well, as Hermione; with strong-minded looks on their faces. He turned back to the front and pulled out his Transfiguration book to start his essay. He was going to have to start it now so Hermione could check it over while he did this useless log tonight.

Curse homework.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7.

Later that night, Hermione was checking Ron's Transfiguration essay and, of course, it had many mistakes to be corrected. Hermione was used to this, just a little tired of it, especially when it was obvious that he had spent a whopping total of fifteen minutes on it.

"_Really_, Ron, who would believe that the reason that Harold the Hideous would transfigure his nose permanently to that of a pig's because 'he was bored and broke his broom?' " Hermione exasperatingly shouted to Ron, only two-thirds of the way down the essay.

Ron, who had left the room to go to his dormitory to work on the mirror in 'secrecy' could still hear her, and proceeded to go to the door and shout back, "Well, since Professor McGonagall likes Quidditch, maybe-"

Hermione waved her hand and cut him off, "Save it, Ron, I'll fix it." She continued to scribble out and neatly pen in the right answer, not glancing at the crooked half-smile Ron gave before he returned to his room.

_She's so ornery sometimes, but she cares_, Ron thought, _No matter how hard she tries to act like she doesn't._

He sat back on the bed, picking up the mirror. In the last ten minutes, he had written his name on the sheet, the date, and even found time after _that_ to draw in a measly little cannon blowing away little Quidditch players in the corner in honor of the Chudley Cannons.

Finally getting bored with that, he picked up the mirror and looked into it, only seeing his own red hair and freckles gazing back. How was he supposed to see through it to the other side?

He flipped it over again, reading 'Anna Maria' for the hundredth time. He thought of something, and pulled out his wand. Clueless, he pointed at the mirror, declaring loudly, "Anna Maria!"

Nothing. Stuffing his wand back into his nightstand drawer, he picked up the mirror again. Murmuring to himself, "Who is Anna Maria?", the mirror suddenly rippled into another scene, full with bright blues and purples. Leaning closer, Ron watched as a girl with Mexican descent floated in gracefully from the doorway, and slammed the door behind her.

She went and sat on her tie-dye blue and purple comforter, pulling out something from underneath. Ron tried turning the mirror to see what it was, but didn't need to as she flung and began to pack a duffle bag onto the bed. He didn't recognize the Muggle name-brand symbol on it, but he got the impression that she played some sport as she packed a ball with pentagonal black spots on it and what looked like _really_ long socks.

She began to rummage about the room, throwing a brush and other items into the bag, and she stopped by the mirror. Ron actually held his breath, hoping that she wouldn't hear him breath, forgetting it was a One-Way mirror.

She might be pretty, if her wavy dark hair wasn't tousled, her skin clear of pimples, and her chocolate eyes rid of the red from, wait, had she been crying? Ron thought. She grabbed the mirror, and Ron began to feel the pit of his stomach lurch as his point of view from the mirror flew towards the bag.

Shoving all the contents, including the mirror, securely in the bag and zipping it shut, the bag and she went bouncing down the hall and outside to where her friend sat, ready for soccer practice and the life-changing event afterward…

* * *

Harry was just finishing up hanging up the sign-up sheet for Gryffindor Quidditch Try-Outs, wondering if this is how Hermione felt every time she handed in an essay; proud, accomplished, and tired. Just about to go back to the field and fly around a bit, he remembered that assignment for Muggle Studies. _Figures_, he thought crossly, _just when I think I can take a break. _

He trudged up the stairs to the common room, greatly agitated that the Fat Lady was absent at the present moment. Not sure when she would come back, he sat down next to the portrait and pulled out his notebook, ready to finish what he hoped would be an easy assignment.

He scribbled his name in the corner, the date, and managed to draw a small Snitch in the corner, which then flew around in the margin of the paper.

Sighing, and figuring that he needed to start, he thought about his morning and began to write:

'Well, Quidditch try-outs are coming up, and I hope Ron tries out. He really is good, and he got over most of his stage-fright stuff last year, I think he can do well.' Harry paused with a heavy heart to erase the Snitch, it was distracting him, and began again:

'Sometimes I get the feeling that people wish they could just erase me, like I had gotten in their way. When I first arrived here, I had that feeling, and that everyone was afraid of me. That's got to be the worst thing there is, feeling that people both want you gone and are too scared to talk to you. I really am lucky to have Ron and Hermione, even though they bicker as much as normal people breathe.

He was on a roll now:

'Another thing I've noticed is that-'

"I'm back," the Fat Lady announced in a sing-songy voice, making Harry jump to his feet. He quickly snatched up his gear and the notebook, actually pressing the notebook to his chest, hoping she didn't catch a word.

"Ylblis Ivni Neddih," Harry breathed the password, quickly escaping through the hole and up to the dormitory, only waving at Hermione in passing.

After Harry had also basically left her, Hermione decided that she should add this to her entry for Muggle Studies.

'I know they're boys and all, but would it be too much trouble to say hello? I help them, I fix their assignments, I'm a good friend, and this is what I get?' she wrote, her breathing accelerating at the anger she wrote. She stopped to read the sentence, then collapsed into the back of the chair. She didn't really feel that way, but sometimes she got so annoyed with them.

Continuing her entry: 'Well, they do try, you have to give them that, and they do make me laugh, especially Ron. I swear, sometimes his lamest joke will make my day seem so hectic, and I can't help but sit back and laugh. I guess he gets it from his brothers, they're a couple of overgrown toddlers, with the menacing minds of Zonko himself.'

There, that sounded accurate. Glancing at the clock, she headed upstairs, wondering what in the world could be so important that Ron, _Ronald Weasley_, would stay up till 10:30 doing…?

* * *

**Just a hint for the other clueless people out there: Read the password for the Fat Lady backwards to get the meaning. **

**No offense meant, I myself find myself clueless on far too many occasions. Ü**


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8.

Realizing after a few moments that she didn't know how it worked exactly, Beatrice glanced at the back of the mirror again, seeing 'Derek' etched lightly again. Some silver, scrawny writing on the inside cover of the notebook caught her eye. It read: 'Whisper name to mirror.'

Glancing around the empty blue Ravenclaw common room to make sure that no one would hear her talk to a mirror, she leaned over it and whispered, "Derek." Beneath the surface of the glass, a new setting unwrinkled, throwing out deep burgundy and white.

After it settled, she saw that it was the bedspread was white and it was the walls that gave off the red. On the walls were beautiful, amazing works of art, one of a black and white tiger with vivid fire-orange eyes; another of a deep pink rose, and it looked like it's color was draining out through a raindrop on the petal…

Beatrice jumped as the door banged against the wall, opening up to a tall boy, probably around her age, with oodles of muscle. Figuring this boy to be Derek, Beatrice looked closer in the mirror, then backed away as Derek neared and grabbed it.

Her heart actually raced as Derek carried the mirror (not with the most grace) down a flight of stairs and into a darkened basement, of which lit up as he hit the switch. Beatrice gasped loudly as Derek threw the mirror at a couch, then swiped his hand forward to catch it as it bounced off and flew towards the concrete floor.

When Derek brought it up to his face, Beatrice saw that his face was just as handsome as the rest of him. Sculpted, handsome, and his frazzled blond hair and dreamy brown eyes almost made him unreal.

Figuring that Derek was probably like the 'legend' Harry Potter, and probably just as popular too; she suddenly felt a withdrawal from him. Guys like him didn't hang with girls like her. _Why did she get stuck with him? _she thought, _Just like with Harry, I'm not supposed to be connected with them at all, why did it seem like the world was trying to torture me by doing so? _

Derek set the mirror down on top of a large black box, it had a curved glass plate on the forward-facing side, and two large wires stuck out in opposite directions out of the top. The mirror was tilted so as to watch Derek walk towards the other half of the basement.

Looking closely, Beatrice noticed dozens of cans of paint disheveled on book cases splattered with drops of paint. Against the wall sat many empty canvases, but on the easel sat on that had very faint outlinings of what looked like a head.

Derek went over to pick up the mirror again, and brought it with him on the way back. He picked up a brush, dipped it in his tray of many colors, and looking back and forth began to paint his reflection.

Beatrice watched his face change moods, since that's all she could see; each one slowly dissolving into the other. Mad, maybe a line was crooked; happy, he must have straightened out; thoughtful, maybe his nose was too straight; all the while Beatrice yearning to see the work.

While watching him work, she saw a far different side of him. Already having this assessment in her mind of who he was, what he acted like, how much he played the crowd, it really confused her to see him as a normal person would.

In fact, it almost made her angry. Why is it that he gets to be gorgeous and thoughtful, when I can only _try_ to be intelligent and fail at, well, just look at him! What makes him so special, why don't I deserve that?

Frustrated, she checked her watch and seeing she still had ten minutes, decided to start her notes as he glanced back and forth.

1. Paint

Huh, that's all he's done so far. It seems like so much more, though. She looked back at the mirror, surprised to see him set down the brush. He grabbed the mirror and held it next to the painting so as to compare the two without letting her see it yet again.

He shook his head at what he saw, maybe he had messed up, and took the mirror with him back upstairs to his room, never letting her see what was wrong.

Derek shoved the mirror back on his dresser and plumped down on the bed, his face covered by his hands. He began to scold himself, "Why can't I do anything _right_?"

Grabbing a pillow, he punched it repeatedly, as if to punish himself. His brows scrunched together, his glorious face reddening, and his breathing quickened, as if he really did feel like hurting himself. Beatrice instantly wanted to touch through the glass, hoping to calm him down to the sensitive painter he was. Then she was shocked, how could Mr. Perfect want to harm himself that badly?

A knock came from the door, making Derek jump and throw the pillow down at his bed as he went to answer it. A woman, probably his mom by the same hair and eyes, spoke to him, "Derek, did you take out the trash? And dust the living room?"

Derek sighed, his face calming but his fists clenching. "No, not yet," he replied curtly.

"What have you been doing? I need those things done, Derek." It sounded as if this was often the case.

"Okay, I'll go take out the trash in a minute," he gave up, his face creasing.

"No, not a minute, now," she demanded, leaving him leaning against the door frame. Derek sighed and, with a final look at the pillow he had just beaten, slammed the door behind him.

Beatrice glanced down at her notes and added:

2. Take out trash.

3. Dust living room.

Getting up and heading towards the dormitory, she thought about what she had seen. Obviously, he was a Muggle, what with the chores that most mothers would do with a flick of the wand.

She opened the door, the room's giggling ceasing and dead silence filed the room for a second. Again, Beatrice felt ashamed for being such a nuisance to them, for being here at all. The first day of school dawned on her memory. Everyone had been so nice that day, and it even went on for a few days later. Then they saw how much she read, how she preferred solitude to flirting, and how she somehow didn't like to talk. So she was quiet, why did that make her an alien? The girls are nice, they try to include her, but she just ended up back where she started, alone.

Quietly she dressed into her pajamas and hid under the covers, thinking again why people like Derek seemed to be eons away from people like her.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9.

Harry slammed the door behind him into the dormitory, still frazzled from the Fat Lady scaring him out of his skin, but stopped his pace when he saw Ron start.

"Working on Muggle Studies?" Harry relaxingly asked, seeing the mirror and notebook spread out on Ron's unmade bed.

"Yeah," Ron replied, his eyes focusing on the dark picture in the mirror. It was still in the duffel bag, and by the sound of it, they were traveling.

"What do you do with that?" Harry asked, captivated as he set down his notebook and gear on his own bed and headed over to Ron's.

Ron pulled the mirror closer, not sure if he should tell Harry. This was a girl's life he was watching in on, and he _was_ supposed to keep it secret…

Harry saw Ron's reaction, "Want to keep to the secret stuff?" he asked stiffly, his eyes testing. Since when was Ron obeying a teacher like, well, like Hermione?

Ron shook his head and beckoned Harry, knowing that it was only a matter of time anyhow. He pulled the mirror back out, showing Harry the black scene.

"See, nothing. Right now her mirror is shoved inside a bag that she's carrying. All I can do is wait," Ron narrated, leaning back onto his pillow.

Harry shook his head, "No, Ron, it's nothing now, I can only see me."

Ron leaned forward, and sure enough only saw his red reflection. "What happened?"

Harry shrugged. "How long have you been doing this?"

Ron thought, "About a half-hour."

"Remember? We can only do it one half-hour outside the classroom," Harry reminded, as disappointed as Ron.

Ron sighed, "And it was just going somewhere."

Harry smiled, interested, "What was happening?"

"I think she was going to play some sport, she had those, um, sicker balls, the ones with the black spots?"

"Oh, soccer balls," Harry commented. Ron leaned forward, his eyes wide open.

"How does soccer work?" Ron interrogated. Harry, after laughing a bit that Ron was keen to learn something, of which Ron responded with a punch; and spent the next fifteen minutes explaining it before the other boys entered the dormitory, laughing and talking loudly.

"What's up?" Ron asked, shoving the mirror and his notes away.

Seamus took a moment to breathe before answering, "Our Muggle Studies girl is such a-"

"Well, she's hot," Dean finished, high-fiving Seamus for the millionth time.

Harry and Ron shared a grin, "Well, what did she do?" Ron asked, automatically lured.

"She's a student, that's all we really know, and she dances a lot," Neville said as he climbed under his covers. Divination was a bore, just the same old predictions by the same old bat. Tonight he had been given two choices: hang out with the other boys and watch their Muggle Studies projects or filling in a chart about what day of the week is best for shopping for socks.

Neville had undeniably felt less eager to do the later.

"Is she any good?" Harry asked, not knowing anything about dancing. He shivered as the Yule Ball crept back from his memory. He could only hope that if he ever was faced with a situation as embarrassing as that again, he would have his invisibility cloak with him.

"Are you kidding? She's awesome!" Seamus answered, as if this connection was plain to see.

"She's funny, and Seamus here thinks he can set up a date," Dean added as he threw a pillow at his best friend and put on his pajamas.

Harry shook his head hopelessly and headed back over to his own bed, sliding under the covers as Ron also did so. Harry would finish the notebook tomorrow, maybe during History of Magic, goodness knows that he falls asleep in there anyway.

Ron laid there between the sheets, recalling all about Anna Maria. Why was she crying? And another thing, why did she need a mirror to play soccer?


	10. Chapter 10

Chappie 10.

Later the next day, Professor Krehope sat in his chair, enjoying the time he had before the boisterous class came.

He had already knew that Ron, Seamus, and Dean had shared all that they saw through the mirrors, his seating chart had a Betraying Babbler spell on it, and right now petite little blue sparks were hovering next to those names.

Professor Krehope was not surprised though, he had expected that much to happen, but one thing did catch his attention. Though Ron had a star, Hermione did not. Why didn't he tell her? They are friends, and in the same house, it just didn't add up.

_Oh, I _am_ a scalawag_, he thought deviously, actually liking the bad-guy feeling. It wasn't often he felt it, being a professor and his geek from his past life, and he leaned back in the chair, even rocking it hazardously onto two legs. Dangerous, I know.

BANG! The door burst open and Professor Krehope fell backwards from the chair as the students trooped in, all taking a luxurious moment or two to gape at him before scrambling to their seats.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione had already sat down in their corner near the door, carrying on their conversation.

Beatrice entered the room, her manila folder resting on top of her pile of books. So far today, two people had said hi to her during breakfast. Although, she wasn't sure that one counted, considering that she had to walk through the Fat Friar to make him acknowledge her. The other was Luna, one of her only friends, though they didn't get to talk much considering most of the classes were set up Slytherin-Gryffindor and Ravenclaw-Hufflepuff. Sigh, how tedious life can be.

On the other hand, the book she was reading was a novel written by a very persuasive and descriptive author, and she was getting towards the climax already, despite the fact she had started it last night.

She debated for a moment if she should sit next to her partner, saw the look on his face as he spotted her, and decided the back corner looked exceptionally welcoming today.

Harry caught sight of the girl again, Beatrice, and remembered yesterday, especially the way she tried to out-do him. For some reason, she only glanced at him then proceeded to the opposite corner, as if he wasn't good enough to sit by. Harry shook his head, clearing all the menacing thoughts, and turned back to the entertaining banter between Ron and Hermione.

"Ron, that's just stupid."

"No, it's not! Having a quill that changes colors can help me think better."

"How does _that_ work? 'Pretty colors inspire better-quality thoughts'?"

"Does it _matter_ how? It just does!"

Harry smiled, how did they find battles as meaningless as this to fight over?

Professor Krehope, after getting up and rubbing his sore parts, went to the front of the room. "Good morning, class."

"Good morning, Professor," they responded, a bit happier than the day before.

He smiled, "Good, unfortunately, I have some sad tidings for two of you." He spotted Dean and Seamus exchanging a look.

"Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas, please come here, grab your stuff."

Dean and Seamus got up, taking up their books, completely silent and serious. Too bad it was too late.

"Please leave the notebooks and the mirror here. You will be returning to Divination."

Dean and Seamus gaped as they numbly set the supplies on his desk and headed back out the door. The rest of the class in the meantime was whispering fervently about the mean, nasty Krehope, who had just been a favorite a minute ago.

Professor Krehope took the front again, "Now, let me assure you, I only did what I did because they failed when I tested their honesty, if you remember that it was one of the things I will test you on. Now, pull out your mirrors and notebooks and continue where you left off as I come around to check them."

The immediate shuffling response to his words pleased him, then worried him. He didn't want to be some alien, cruel teacher, he wanted to have fun this year. Maybe that will be on tomorrow's agenda.

As he walked around, he glanced at the work they had done, and was satisfied with the majority of it. He could tell that this assignment really made some think, that or they just made up some bologna to write down.

He was even more delighted to see only one or three things written down for the mirror project. He knew that they had witnessed more than what they wrote, and he also knew that they must be bursting to tell or write it down. You can't watch someone's life and think, 'Well, that was boring.' It's someone's _life_ for Pete's sake!

"Ron," Professor Krehope asked at the end of the period once everyone had left, "Do you know why I am asking you to stay?"

Ron nodded, his ears darkening, "Because I told Harry, Professor."

Professor Krehope nodded, "Yes, that's it. Now, since you didn't act dumb, or that you didn't know, and nothing even happened on her side of the mirror at the time, I will let this one go. But please, I hope you take this more seriously." He also had let Ron stay because of what he had said on the first day of class, but he kept that to himself.

"Yes, Professor," Ron replied, his eyes absorbed on the floor. Looking up to see Professor Krehope waving his hand for Ron to leave, he did, and at a rapid pace.

* * *

Beatrice's mirror had revealed less about Derek today during class than she had hoped for. In fact, he had left the mirror in his room while he went to school. However, Beatrice could study his bedroom, depicting out paintings and drawings he had done, each astounding as the next. Maybe tonight, she hoped, more will happen. 

Ron, however, had witnessed quite a bit today in the classroom. The mirror had never left the shadowy contents of her bag, but he overheard what had happened after practice, and that was enough.

Someone her age, a girl, had been talking, "Anna Maria, where are you going to go?"

A bitter tone, most likely Anna Maria, answered, "I don't care. Anywhere but here."

"I don't know if we should be doing this…" the first girl trailed off.

"Are you kidding? I can't stand it here! Everyone at school takes one look at me and judges me for what I am, _Latino_. I need to get out before I get stuck here with a job and won't be able to leave."

Ron had leaned his face in more, unable to comprehend it all. She was running away?

"But so soon after graduation?" the first girl asked again.

"It's perfect. I'll have my diploma, maybe I can go to college once I save up enough if plan A doesn't work."

"Where are you going to live?" Ron held his breath on this question, hoping to hear the answer.

"Well, my Uncle Jorge lives in Utah, maybe I can get there."

"From Wyoming to Utah is about two-hundred miles, what are you going to do, hitchhike?"

"Whatever it takes. I just can't…live here anymore, alright?" Anna Maria's voice was rising slightly, reminding Ron of a certain _someone_. **(cough, Harry, nudge, hint)**

"Alright, but what are you going to tell your mama?" Her voice was earnest.

"I left a note for her and Papi, saying that I can't stand it anymore, I need to get away, do what I love, all that stuff."

"How are you planning to become a comedian when you have no, you know, _professional_ experience?"

Anna Maria laughed, but it had been empty and hollow sounding, "Easy, I'll get some."

And with that, the scene had blacked out, (though it was already quite dark). Ron's time was out, and it was making him anxious to see more that night. A run-away comedian/soccer player?

* * *

**Just a note: Utah is a state in the U.S. Super thanks to everyone who's been reading!**


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11.

That evening after supper, while Beatrice was finishing up her daily library book check-out, (yes, _daily_), someone caught her eye. She usually had everyone down-pat that went to library at this time of day, and it wasn't who she expected at all.

It was Harry the Heroic, sitting at a table with his green notebook, his quill flying at the words he wrote. Setting down her pile at a different table, she stalked over to him, peeking slightly over his shoulder. She was a curious person, and it intrigued her to wonder what troubles Harry the Magnificent could possibly have.

Harry had escaped to the library, taking Hermione's advice, and began to write feverishly, not even knowing from where or how he was writing this all, but knowing it was true all the same.

'All the fame, the pressure, the madness that has been given to me isn't just a daily reminder that I need to be great, but it comes with it's own punishment if I don't. If I don't measure up to these expectations, if I don't make it, I'm just blending in to the rest of the Wizarding world. How can I do that? That is something I definitely refuse to do. If I blend in, if I disappear among them, that means that my entire person is completely gone. Like my name will be written down as the Boy Who Lived, but there will be no need to say how I lived, or what ever happened to me because no one bothered to find out.-'

Harry stopped writing, hearing soft breathing behind him.

Whipping around, he found her, Beatrice, standing stock still, as if afraid he might bite her. He stood, ready to yell accusations, but saw her chocolate eyes. They stopped him completely, mesmerizing him with an understanding look.

Beatrice froze, caught red-handed. She backed away slightly as he stood, but couldn't believe it was him. Harry the Brilliant, Harry the Talented, how could he feel all that he wrote and not explode? She suddenly could relate to him so much better, better than she dared to, and ran off to her books and sped out of the library.

Harry paused, not sure what had just happened. She read my thoughts, my deepest beliefs, and _understood them_. No one, not even Ron or Hermione, has ever grasped them, why her?

He sat back down, suddenly feeling drained. After a moment or two, he snatched his notebook up and headed up to the dormitory, his mind never letting go of those eyes.

Beatrice ran up to her dormitory, knowing it would be empty because the other girls were busy flirting in the common room.

_That look, oh that look! _She thought, her heart still pounding as she remembered that look he gave her. It was messed up; relieved, betrayed, shocked, (mostly shocked), and at the same time he just stood there, staring at her.

She closed her eyes and rolled over onto her back, day-dreaming for a moment that maybe he could _even_ tolerate her. Then she recalled that first day, and the amount of hatred they seemed to share, and the vision stopped.

He was so competitive, and so was she, so that ruled out any chance of relationship, right? _Right_, she thought sternly, almost afraid if the answer would have been otherwise. They'd probably kill each other first. Besides, no one, not even anyone who shared this dormitory could stand her.

Sighing and picking up the mirror, she sat up and waited for Derek to come home.

It took about ten minutes from the time she started for Derek to enter the scene. He came in, dropped a large bag on the floor next to his bed, and sat down at his desk on which the mirror sat. She could see pods of sweat on him, they soaked through the shirt, and he was overall not the cleanest.

Apparently realizing this, he went to his dresser drawer and pulled out a fresh change of clothes before he went to shower, leaving Beatrice all alone in the room for another fifteen minutes.

When he finally did come back, he was fully dressed and sat at the desk again, taking out a few notebooks and textbooks from his backpack and propping them open.

Suddenly interested in what Derek had for homework, she leaned to the right to catch what was set to her left, and was fascinated by the numbers and symbols she had either forgotten or never knew.

He sat there for a moment, his face more complex then when he was working on the painting. Finally, he wrote down some numbers and sat back proudly, apparently pleased. Beatrice unknowingly smiled, he seemed so simple.

Derek glanced at the mirror after shoving his books away, and took it up in his hands. Staring for a while at his reflection, he started to make faces. Beatrice outright laughed at the goofy things he was doing, he could twist his lips on top of each other and curl his tongue up like a folded pie crust. He laughed once or twice before setting the mirror back down, then stood up and stretched his extremely muscular body.

Startlingly, Beatrice felt the pit of her stomach bolt, as if his stretching had woken up something. She glanced around the room, wondering if this was normal. She turned back to the mirror, glad to see he had stopped.

A shrieking came from the lower level, "Derek, supper's ready!"

Derek rolled his eyes, his playful smile revealing his all-too white teeth as he rushed out the door, the scene blackening.

Beatrice finished her notes lazily, glad for a moment that there was no one around as she thought. Derek, he seemed so…charming, yet he was a world away from her. She shook her head of that, wishing that she had never been in this class. She couldn't handle all this, and it had frightened _incredibly_ her when her stomach looped. Did she have a crush on him already?

Besides, even if he wasn't a Muggle or she wasn't a witch, he would treat her just like Harry the Marvelous; like a fly on the wall or an invisible cloak in the dark. Someone that wasn't worth knowing just because popularity isn't something she worries about.

Throwing the notebook and the mirror back into her bag, she pulled out her latest novel, _Spellwish_, and decided even if the realms she read about weren't real, at least they didn't judge her.

And as she dove into a different yet relatable realm, she couldn't help but muse about Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, now the Boy Who Wouldn't Leave Her Mind.

* * *

**Another note: _Spellwish_ isn't an actual book, I just thought the name sounded magical. **


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12.

Ron sat on his bed, the scene he saw still black from the inside of the bag. Tiredly he propped the mirror up against his pillow as he reviewed the few notes he had. Where was this girl going? Utah? Where was that? _And most importantly_, how was he going to convince Hermione that his color-changing quills were useful?

Sighing, and knowing the last question was probably hopeless, he sat up and turned back towards the mirror, hearing some chattering continue.

"Hey, I'm running low on gas, where can I drop you off?"

"At that bus station is fine. Hey Heather?" Anna Maria started as the car slowed.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks," she said, gratitude filing her voice as it became harder to do so through the knob in her throat.

Ron listened closely, but heard nothing. The bag moved, Anna Maria left the car and she plopped down on the bus bench, wiping away tears.

Ron didn't see any of this, but he heard her sniffle. Well, it started out as sniffles then grew into sobs. He jot down, '2. Cry' on his list, wondering what was next for her.

He realized he still had about five minutes left. He leaned in, hoping to catch something before it blacked out. In actuality though, it was already black, so he guessed it would be done when time ran out.

Anna Maria sat on the cold dark-green painted bench, praying for a moment that she would make it. Dreams seemed to be just what they sounded like, hopeful visions that end when you return to reality. Heaving a sigh, she snatched up her bag and headed down the street to where she had planned to go all along, regardless of the lies she had told to Heather, Mama, Papi…

Ron heard movement, but didn't hear the rumble of a bus. What was going on? And then the sound of her walking ceased, and he was left with the mystery unsolved.

* * *

Hermione finished her journal early that night, its seems when she had thought about everything as it happened, she had kept a mental diary of it, and stood for a moment to stretch her body in the common room. Someone caught her eye from the corner, it was Luna. She seemed to be staring into space, her empty notebook on her lap.

"Hello, Luna," Hermione said as she walked over. Luna didn't start at all, just refocused her eyes on Hermione before springing up in her chair.

"Hello. How do you write this?" Luna asked with a discouraged voice, motioning to the notebook.

Hermione sat down next to her, "What do you think about? How do you feel about it? Just blabber on about stuff like that."

Luna cocked her head to the side, then nodded and began to write. Hermione, trying to be polite, attempted to not read it, but her interest gave in.

'At times, I think that maybe I don't belong anywhere. I'm here, there, anywhere but where people accept me. Most mock me, but that doesn't matter, at least I don't judge them. Take Ronald Weasley for example, I thought he was a kind of flake, but he actually likes me, or at least my commentary at Quidditch games. I think I could consider him and Harry and Hermione friends. Neville too, he's just a little shy sometimes.'

Luna smiled at what she wrote then, realizing Hermione was still standing there, switched subjects, "Hermione, where does Ron get the colorful quills?"

Hermione chuckled, remembering their spat, "Zonko's. Why?"

"Oh, I liked them. I think I'll get some."

"_Why _would you get some?" Hermione could really use someone on her side right about now.

"Because, I'm bored easily and they look cool. Sheesh, Hermione, live a little," Luna jokingly retorted as Hermione returned to her pile of homework, laughing. Her days would be seriously dull if there wasn't Luna.

Luna finished her journal a little later, after everyone had long left for bed. Curling her back like a cat, she stretched herself out, her day finally ending.

She hadn't had time to check in with Beatrice much, just said hi this morning. Luna looked around and, pleased that the common room was empty, stood up slowly then busted out and danced. Not the average dance, but the wild-shake-the-booty dance, the stuff that gets her blood pumping.

Luna stopped, fresh out of breath, to collapse back down into the chair, a carefree grin on her face. Sometimes being a teenager was too much, you just got to take a moment and let it all loose! She knew that kids teased her, but she could truly keep her pride as long as she reminded herself that she could do _that _and be one-hundred percent happy.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13.

This day would be called 'Thursday', a day with no identifiable or unusual meaning to anyone but Harry. This was the day that he would learn more than Muggle Studies in school, and not by the most official teachers either.

At first when Harry awoke, his first thought was, predictably, about Quidditch. He didn't expect his second thought to have the subject of a pair of familiar, captivating brown eyes. Harry shook his head impatiently, knowing that if he let it that memory would become a nuisance.

However, as the day rolled on, he found his mind uncontrollably wavering to those eyes. Ron had woken him out of his trance for a moment, and Harry had actually been angry to be interrupted. When Hermione had also done so, he outright snapped at her. He said sorry once he had cooled down, but he had also made it obvious to his two best friends that something was on his mind, the exact opposite of what he had intended.

"C'mon mate, what's eating you?" Ron asked as the three trudged back from Herbology to Muggle Studies.

Harry shrugged, "I don't know. Maybe it's the try-outs coming up. Have you signed up?" Harry was glad he had found a good source, and for the new subject that was not directed at him.

Ron returned the shrug, "Sure, why not?"

"Are you going to practice behind my back again?" Harry accused mockingly. Ron returned the mockery with a fake look of aghast with his hand held up to his chest.

"Why, how dareth you suggest it-th! Why have-th you forsake-th me so?" Ron tried his best Shakespearean speech, and had failed miserably by walking straight into McGonagall, who only kept on walking after scolding Ron to watch his step.

Hermione looked away, trying her absolute best to keep her sides from splitting open laughing. She had faced a predominantly perplexing day. For one, Harry was on edge again, God knows why. But then Ron had been utterly hilarious all day. She could only wonder why he was all of sudden wanting to be, well, Fred and George.

* * *

Professor Krehope sat happy as a pickle in his desk, waiting for his first class to come. Everything was going as planned, he had received a positive letter from Professor Dumbledore himself giving permission for the activity that will take place in three months, after the mirror project.

The class of teenagers entered, most of them drudging because it was, after all, a Thursday and not quite the weekend yet. But there he sat, still content and pleased, greeting them with a friendly smile and, "Good morning!"

Ron, being in such an equally congenial mood, replied, "Good morning!" and sat down beside his partner and Harry in the desk behind him.

"What's up with you?" Hermione asked, not bothering to hide her astonished look.

"Everything," Ron replied cheerfully as Beatrice Credence entered.

Harry, who had mentally been waiting and preparing for this moment, looked right at her, abandoning the plan to avoid her entrancing eyes. Then he saw them, and decided his original plan might have been smart as he looked away from their questioning glance.

Beatrice walked in, her arms towering full of books, and almost dropped them as she noticed a stare. Since when did she get stares? But this wasn't an unkind stare; in truth, it was gentle, but it held a strong question. And then she realized whose it was, and quickly dashed off to her opposite corner, careful not to drop the mirror.

Professor Krehope, not blinded by his happiness, noted this awkward moment, and likewise Hermione and Ron who then shared a dubious glance. Harry only caught a glimpse of this before Professor Krehope stood and told them to carry on as they did yesterday, and Harry took this as an opportunity to open his notebook and begin working, still startling his two best friends.

Ron pulled out the mirror, quietly murmuring the name to it as did half of the class which is, as you might recall, only five other people.

The room that contained the dresser on which the mirror sat was in a pasty, pukey, yellow room; the color spreading onto the walls and bedspreads that rested on the two queen-sized beds like overripe cheese. There was a plain wooden ceiling fan, and a little bedside table on which sat a lamp with the matching yellow lampshade, if you could call it yellow. A tiny, wooden faced fridge sat next to a large, black box with the forward-facing side made of curved glass. Harry explained it to Dad as a 'CV', or something like that.

Anna Maria wasn't present in the room, so Ron just sat there staring at the drab yellow, his hunger for lunch quickly subsiding. For twenty minutes he sat there before a familiar girl entered the room, Anna Maria. Ron sat up as she began to dance about the room, her happy spirit rapidly planting a smile on his face.

"Who's got a job? I got a job! Who's gonna be a _si-inger_? I am!" she chanted, smiling and whooping. Ron wrote down his notes with glee, glad that the mood was changing.

Harry opened up his journal and took out his quill and ink, still thinking of how quickly Beatrice had retreated. The seat next to him was, after all, empty; why had she rejected it? _Because she's hardly ever talked to you_, the other half of him reminded, _and she probably thinks you are a freak after she read your journal._ _But she _got _it_, he mused and stole a glance at her, bent and working from across the room.

Beatrice sat there lazily after her first notes were finished, Derek was still at school. She set down the mirror for a second, looking to see how the others were doing. Immediately and impulsively her eyes sought out Harry, who was, to her great bewilderment, looking at her. She flushed and looked down, not even knowing that Harry was copying those exact actions.

Harry quickly looked down at his journal, still unsure if he should record this or not. What if she saw it again? Then he realized some part of him wanted her to, he had been extremely comforted to think that there was someone who could even remotely relate to him. _Man, I _am_ a freak. . _

Too soon, the class was over, and all the students who had been either drawn to another world or immersed in their own journals all remembered something quite wearisome: it was still Thursday.

Harry did not rush as the others did to collect his effects and leave. He waited for Beatrice to walk past him, and when she did, she simply stopped near him to pick up a dropped book of hers. Harry, sure she was about to wordlessly leave again, was dazed to hear her say, "I'm sorry about yesterday. If it makes you feel any better, I'm not telling anyone what you wrote."

Harry turned to see her face, flushed yet thoughtful, and replied, "It does. Since we're partners, do you, uh, want to sit here tomorrow?" he finished, trying to keep his voice level and uncaring.

Beatrice heard his voice precisely as he wanted, monotone and uninterested, and after peeking at Hermione and Ron answered, "No, that's alright. We don't have to work together right now anyway."

Harry's heart dropped to the cold floor, but he put on his best mask and said, "Right, see you tomorrow."

"Bye."

Ron and Hermione exchanged a quick look after Beatrice had left the room, both knowing now what Harry's problem was. As they walked down the corridor, Hermione asked Harry indifferently, "So, do you like her?"

"Who?" Harry asked dumbly, his heart speeding.

"Oh, come off it Harry, we saw the look you gave her," Ron told him, his voice not at all mean.

Harry sighed, so they knew. "Well, I don't know. She, she read my journal the other day."

"What did it say?" Hermione asked plainly.

"Not much really, she just, I don't know, understood it." Harry's mind, for the millionth time that day thought of those large, shocked, still warm brown eyes.

Ron smiled, "Well, I know who might help you there."

"Who?" Hermione and Harry asked.

Ron's smirk widened as he headed into lunch, knowing that at any moment the answers would arrive, just like any other Thursday.


	14. Chapter 14

Chappie 14.

Beatrice quickly ran up to her room to switch her piles of books for her afternoon ones. As she shifted through the pile that she had, she realized with horror whose green Muggle Studies journal she had mistakenly grabbed. Harry's. As if he needed _another_ reason to hate her.

But did he? The way he asked her to sit with him completely confirmed it, but then why would he ask at all? Shaking her head, she tried to forget that asking stare he had welcomed her with, and just how much she had, in all honesty, liked it.

* * *

Ron clobbered his books on the table, trying to keep Harry and Hermione at the guessing game he was having too much fun playing until they arrived. Unfortunately for Ron, a lover of surprises, Hermione figured it out. Figures.

"You're going to ask _them_ for help?" Hermione comprehended, and she smacked her hand to her forehead and hoped she was somehow wrong.

Then it dawned on Harry. "Are you trying to be _funny_? Fred and George? If I need help turning her hair lime green, then I'll ask Fred and George for help. But since the only girl that they seem to like is Angelina and she openly mocks them, I think I'll pass."

"Oh, c'mon, give them a chance. They are the ones who told Ginny to get that stupid singing cupid for you second year. Look, here they come," Ron announced as the twins came to the table.

"Good morning, Harry ol' chum,"

"An absolutely spiffing morning, don't you agree Hermy?"

On cue, Hermione and Harry both rolled their eyes.

The twins sat, as customary, across from Ron, who now asked, "Say, think you two could help Harry with a girl problem?"

Fred turned towards Harry, who was blushing madly, and accused, "Why, you devil you! Don't keep them all on a line, mate, they start to have 'feelings' then."

"So, who's the lucky lass anyway?" George asked as he shoved a biscuit in Ron's mouth not only to keep him from telling, but also for enjoyment on this boring Thursday.

"This girl in Ravenclaw, Beatrice Credence," Hermione supplied as Ron choked out the biscuit and Harry shushed her.

"Oh, going for the smart ones, eh?" Fred alleged as he elbowed Harry.

"Not good Harry, she'll figure it out," George contradicted.

"Figure _what_ out?" Harry asked quietly, praying that no one could overhear their conversation.

Fred leaned in close and whispered secretly in his ear, "Your 'plan'."

George cuffed Fred, "Fred, he's dated a girl who drowned him while snogging. He doesn't _have_ a plan."

"Right, we'll have to conjure one up for you," Fred concluded as he began to inhale his lunch.

"Think you could meet us after supper in the common room?" George asked as he began devour his meal like his brother.

Harry sighed and held his hands up in a surrender, "Alright, fine."

"Don't worry ol' chap, we're experts."

"Just look what we did for Hermione. Kidding!" George defended as Hermione fired him a murdering glare.

Harry finished lunch and rummaged through is bag for his journal. He ended up emptying the entire contents of the bag and it still didn't show up. He asked Ron and Hermione, but they hadn't seen it either. Determined that maybe someone had turned it in to the Library's Lost Books, he would check it later.

Once classes were done for the day, Harry headed down to the library, hoping desperately to find it as he fumbled through the cardboard box full of books. _Just my luck_, he thought disappointedly.

* * *

Beatrice came into the library, _Spellwish_ finished and she wanted to return Harry's notebook to the Lost Books area, keen to do that as opposed to giving it to him herself. But as she handed in _Spellwish_, she saw Harry shuffling through the Lost Books bin across the way and, for some reason, walked back out without checking out a new novel or returning the notebook.

Madam Prince, a close acquaintance of Beatrice, noticed this and followed to where her stare had lead. Harry Potter? What could a sensible, nice girl want to do with a boy that rarely came here and had turned in _Quidditch through the Ages _late five times?

* * *

Frustrated, Harry left the library five minutes later, knowing that he still had to do a Transfiguration essay, a Potions essay, and a journal for today. He figured that a piece of parchment would do until he could find it. Where could it possibly be?

And then one more thing spilled into his mind, Fred and George's advice meeting. This was going to be one extensive Thursday night.

* * *

Beatrice headed up to the dormitory, dropped her books on her bed, and without thinking pulled out Harry's notebook. Her intent was to give it back, and he had been right there, why had she pulled away? Slowly opening it, she began to read, the same curiosity from that day when she read over his shoulder completely gripped her.

Easily she skimmed through it, until she noticed how deep it was going. He didn't prattle on just to fill paper, but there was real words backed with sincere thoughts. And then out of the blue she saw her name:

'Why is it that Beatrice, a girl I only know the name of, read my deepest emotions and understood them? I mean, I _think_ she understood them, her eyes told me that much. And now I can't get those eyes out of my head; large, shocked, but warm brown. She ran away so fast, how could I scare her?'

Beatrice closed the diary, unable to read anymore. She was in _way_ over her head, how could she return it now without him knowing she read it? Forcing it from her mind, (although it took a while), she tugged out the mirror and decided to check up on Derek.

He was, for once, in his room; this time at his desk as he filled out numerous documents, all dreadfully lengthy. His eyes were tired from this work, and took a moment to rub them slowly, knowing he had more to do.

Beatrice tilted the mirror and, heaving a sigh, identified them as job applicant forms. That meant less time seeing him and more time watching his never-changing room. _Bloody-tastic_.


	15. Chapter 15

**Thanks Maddie! Because you're anonymous, I couldn't reply your review, so I'm telling you now. That **_**utterly and absolutely **_**made my day at work seem not all that bad! Well, quite frankly, it was bad, but this made coming home better! **

**Thanks mucho to iwishiwereathogwarts and anyone else who reads this!**

15.

Harry, once he had finished his homework in his dormitory, headed down to the common room to what he hoped would be an embarrassing-free and quick session with Fred and George. However, once he had thought the words 'embarrassing-free' and 'Fred and George' in the same sentence, he realized just how much of an oxymoron that was.

Fred and George were sitting near the stone fireplace with Hermione and Ron, both of whom were laughing. Harry strolled up to them, "So, what's the plan?"

The two troublemakers grinned and sat up straighter, something that customarily happens when Angelina walks by, and Harry knew he was in for it.

"Well, we're going to start _slow_," Fred started, his hands gesturing motions to Harry, then he proceeded to walk unbearably slow as if time had warped into a snail's pace.

"To make sure _you_," George nodded and pointed to Harry, "can keep _up_," he pointed towards the ceiling, "with _us_," he indicated Fred and himself. Harry rolled his eyes, already aware of the fact that Hermione and Ron were sniggering hysterically.

"Alright, alright, keep your grubby hands off," George gave in as he saw the look on Harry's face. Fred turned towards Harry and began to read off a piece of parchment.

"So, here's the plan: Step one, the broom closet."

"Fred! That's _our_ plan!"

"Oh, sorry mate, yours is _this_ one," Fred pulled out another more extensive piece as Hermione got up.

"Where you going?" Ron asked.

"Anywhere but here. Besides, I have to finish my _own_ Potions essay," Hermione resigned with a yawn. The last thing she wanted to know was how Harry was going to ask out a girl via 'Fred and George' style.

"Okay, first step: know her name," Fred resumed, his tone official.

"_Unbelievably_ useful," George helpfully commentated as Ron burst out laughing at the simple sincerity his brother rarely used.

Harry grinned, "Guys, I _do_ know her name."

"Well, we wanted to take it slow you know," George reminded.

"So, next step: Invite her to a small gathering," Fred assumed his authoritative tone.

"This includes (but is not limited to): Breakfast," George began to list.

"Lunch,"

"Supper,"

"'_Study_' sessions," George said with a conspicuous wink, and Ron exploded again. Harry laughed too, but he wasn't sure if they were actually kidding or not.

"And anytime in class," Fred finished smilingly. Harry slapped his hand to his face, remembering how well _that_ had gone.

"Oh, Harry, _please_ don't tell me you already tried that one," George hopefully asked.

"She turned him down," Ron added, and Fred and George proceeded to suck in a large gulp of air slowly, obviously not impressed.

"We were afraid of that," Fred confessed.

"Which is why we have a backup plan!" George declared as he drew out another piece of parchment and began to read: "In the case of a refusal, please follow the following steps:.."

"Number one: Smile at her appreciatively," Fred began, batting his eyes at Harry who, like Ron, began to double-up uncontrollably with laughter.

"Number two: Ask her about a hobby or '_thpecial interetht'_, " George lisped, also fluttering his eyelashes and spitting on Ron, who wiped saliva off hurriedly with a look of absolute disgust on his face.

"Well, after that you can basically begin our plan," Fred finished as Harry and Ron began to breathe normally.

"Any questions?" George asked, piling up the parchments.

"Yes, has this ever actually been tried?" Ron amusingly asked.

Fred draped an arm around his younger inquisitive brother while spreading the other in a broad, smooth current and droned in a fatal tone, "No, we must bear this task unprepared for what is to come. We might not survive it unscathed." The serious manner of his voice almost gave Harry chills.

George, on the other hand, cheerfully answered, "But don't worry, we had Neville try this one out for when he had a crush on Luna, and look how that turned out!"

"Wait, are they dating?" Harry asked.

"Well, no, not exactly," George admitted.

"But they do know each other's name!" Fred exclaimed, as if this was an equivalent.

Harry and Ron shared a look that, without words, widened a smile on both of their faces.

* * *

Derek leaned back in his chair, knowing that all this was absurdly…well, he couldn't exactly say 'unfair'. He was, after all, in need of money and getting a job _was_ the most sensible way to earn some. But still!

He glanced at his mirror. It had arrived in the mail some weeks ago, with an attachment saying 'DO NOT DISPOSE: COULD BRING GOOD LUCK'. He chortled, as if _that_ would bring him money. He didn't know why, but he couldn't bring himself to sell it, and he didn't want to give it away. When he looked at the antique, he felt some sort of a link, like someone out there might be watching about him. **(ironic, no?)**

For a moment his girlfriend, Heather, fleeted through his mind. Naw, she cared for him, but nothing like he wanted. She cared about his six-pack abs and that the conditioner he used was ultra-volumizing. No, she wasn't what he looked for at all, he should probably brake-up with her tomorrow.

Sighing deeply and his anger subsiding, he headed downstairs to help with dinner, acutely aware of the fact that the delicate fragrance he was sniffing was the smell of his dear father burning supper. Again. And with that, a genuine smile finally sprouted onto his face.


	16. Chapter 16

**Thanks again Maddie! I died laughing when I wrote that part!**

**Just incase you can't keep up:**

_Harry the Heroic_

**Hermione the Witty**

Ron the Hopeless

**Like the titles? Oh, right, the story…..Should probably get to that now: **

Chappie 16.

The next day, everyone seemed to be in a better mood. Fridays are, as you might also agree, absolutely uplifting bearing in mind the prospect of two days _off_.

Today, however, Harry's heart had been in his stomach ever since Muggle Studies class began.

It started normal, everyone working on either the mirror or the notebook, but Harry couldn't keep his mind off of her. Beatrice. He stole a glance by leaning back in his chair and pretending to stretch, but she had seen the movement and dove farther into her book. Harry slouched normally then, and felt a note from Ron pelt him in the back of the neck:

Relax mate, just wait till after class. Plus your zipper is open.

Harry alarmingly glanced down and, sure enough, it was gaping open. He quickly zipped it up, and sent a note back:

_Thanks, and for your information, I _am_ relaxed. _

Ron opened it and Harry saw him hold back a laugh. Ron sent one back:

Right. So you usually catch glances at girls all day? Geez, pull yourself together, you are acting like a swoonie. 

'_Swoonie'? What the devil does that mean? _

Dunno, you tell me. Loverboy. Think we could fly around this weekend? 

_Yeah, remember? I got to do try-outs tomorrow. _

Yeah, and remember, Fred and George are going to pummel you at lunch with questions about your girlfriend in the corner. 

_Crap, think I could make up a story?_

Sure, what are you going to say? You caught her in your arms as she swooned after you read a sonnet to her eyebrows? I can see it now: 'Each delicate brown hair makes me want to stare.' Ha!

_Well, well, well, hasn't _somebody_ given this a bit of thought? Seriously, got anything better? Something, I don't know, believable? _

Sorry mate, that was my best. 

Hermione intercepted the note and, after reading it, (which included many times in where she rolled her eyes), she added to it and passed it to Harry:

**You two should be working! Oh, Harry, Fred and George have a bet on if you are going to ask her to supper or not. Ron, where did you hear the word 'swoonie'? **

_What? Why would they place a bet? How am I supposed to get her to eat with us when she would eat at the Ravenclaw table? _

Beats me, and I only bet because if I didn't, they were gonna be hard on me tomorrow. And I never heard 'swoonie' , alright? I just thought that's what it sounded like. And since when does Hermione the Perfect pass notes? 

**Whenever I feel like it Ron, at least I don't go around inventing words. And Harry, I only bet because I planned on telling you about it anyway. Take my advice, don't ask her to supper, ask her to something else this weekend. **

_Uh, Hermione, I'm not going to do whatever it takes for you to keep your money! Even if I don't want to ask her to supper. Think I could ask her to work on Muggle Studies this weekend? _

The class abruptly ended to the note passer's dismay, and Harry still did not think of what to say or do. As he left the room, however, Professor Krehope asked, "Why Harry, where is your notebook?"

No one noticed Beatrice dropping half her books, except Harry.

"I don't know sir, I'll check the Lost Books in the Library again," Harry stammered, his eyes returning to the professor's. He really didn't know _where_ it was.

"Well, just be sure you still do the journals, okay? Wonderful, wonderful," he trailed off as he returned to his book. Harry had the odd feeling as if he was being dismissed, lectured, and praised at the same time, and decided to go to lunch. Goodness knows Fred and George were waiting for him.

"Well, there he is!"

"Ladies, watch out for this tiger!"

"How'd it go, mate?"

Harry was trying his best to keep a straight face, but gave up entirely and came clean, "Nothing. I didn't talk or anything, Professor Krehope cornered me. So, how much does Hermione get?"

Hermione grinned and held out her hands as Ron and Fred mournfully handed the coins over. "What about you, George?" Harry asked.

George smiled, "I bet that you would ask her, but she would drop her books and say, 'Oh, Wonderful and Flawless Potter, I'll have to think about it'." Harry resolved to punching him in the arm.

* * *

Ron hadn't seen that much today, just the dingy yellow room again, _As if _that's_ anything to celebrate about_, he thought sullenly. 

Eventually that night she came in, (Ron with only ten minutes left), flaying herself at the bed belly down. He heard her grunt into the pillow, "Work…not…fair,…I…deserve…raise…" Smilingly he began:

1. Complain. 

She swiveled onto her back and slowly got up, the bed creaking slightly as she stood. She stretched out her over-worked muscles and murmured, "Note to self: Working at little kids soccer camp for six hours, then working in the hotel restaurant for five more is not fun. Whatsoever."

2. Worked kid soccer camp, then hotel restaurant. 

She scoffed, remembering the idiot who just had been walking by and had the _nerve_ to correct her in front of the kiddies. "'You are doing it wrong, a corner kick needs _three_ steps back, not _four_'," she mimicked scornfully. If only she could have corner kicked the pompous jerk right in the…._Oh, forget it. Karma will get him for me. Good ol' karma. _

Ron immediately felt a connection after hearing her recount the day. 'It's _Leviooohsa_, not _Leviosaah_,' battered into his brain.

Anna Maria sat down and kicked off her sneakers harder than any shoe should be kicked. Then, without changing, she lazily pulled the covers over her head and slept soundly. The 'soundly' meant that the snores her body were throttling out were louder than a foghorn in the middle of hurricane.

Not able to stop himself, Ron added with amusement:

3. Snore louder than aggravated dragon. 

Prediction: Sore throat next morning. 

Recommendation: Wait a few days before singing in _any_ audition.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17.

And finally, to everyone's delight, Saturday came. Hermione spent the great deal of the morning doing homework as she pestered her friends to do the same. They obliged for about an hour or so, then went out to do more serious work. Flying.

The try-out sheets had been collected last night by Harry and, to his great satisfaction, there was many to see. The auditions started in about an hour, so he could help Ron warm-up until then.

"Ron, remember to guard your middle hoop," he shouted ten minutes later. Others were also getting ready on the field, and Harry could tell Ron's ears were red even from five feet away.

"'Kay, will do," Ron tried to say positively, but it was so hard when he knew that others were doing a much better job than him.

Harry threw the ball again, and instead of missing it, Ron lounged his leg toward it, kicked it up into the air to seize it, which would have looked quite impressive had the ball not hit him right in the nose.

Harry flew over, "You okay?"

"Yeah, not bleeding or anything. But what's the point?"

"Ron, don't start. You had some strategy there-"

"Of course it's a real shame my nose got in the way."

Harry sighed, this was exactly what Ron always did. "Have a little faith. You know you can do better, right? So, just do better. Make it your mindset."

Ron nodded, "Alright, Harry the Perfect."

Harry smiled encouragingly, sarcasm from Ron was always a sign of normality, and threw the Quaffle again, Ron finally catching it square in his hands. A grin lit up his face, "ALRIGHT!" Harry flew up to Ron to smack a high-five, but Ron was too exuberant and collided with Harry before either knew what was happening.

Fred and George had not hesitated to voice their entertainment: "Alright there?" "Too much Butterbeer?" "Lack of balance?" "Lack of brain?"

After they both righted themselves, Harry set off towards a good perspective in the announcer's booth, hoping that Ron's skill hadn't peaked too early.

* * *

"C'mon _on,_ Bea!" Luna egged on as she tugged Beatrice by the arm. They were already running, but Luna was especially excited.

"I'm coming! Patience is a virtue!" Beatrice teased as Luna rolled her eyes.

"Not at the moment it's not!" Luna argued mischievously, and Beatrice smiled and raced her there.

Luna landed exhaustingly in the stands, "Boy, to think we almost missed it!"

Beatrice glanced at her watch, "Luna, we're ten minutes early."

"Well, at least we got good spots!" Luna pointed out. _This is true_, noted Beatrice as she scoped out the crowded stands. Somehow, her eyes took a sidetrack over to the Captain's standpoint.

"Oh! Did you see that loop he did?" Luna enthusiastically grilled during the trials.

"Uh-huh."

Luna heard the short reply, something way out of the ordinary for Beatrice, (though many didn't know this), and turned to see Bea looking the other way.

"What are you looking at?"

"Nothing," Beatrice answered, quickly looking back at the field, (Or rather, the sky above the field).

Luna didn't press the matter; in fact, to her there _was_ no matter, and resumed quipping at every move the players made.

* * *

Hermione watched the try-outs through the window from the common room, her homework almost finished. She knew it was biased, but she hoped very hard that Ron would get on, and _deserve_ it.

She swallowed a breath as Ron flew up to the rings. _Oh please,_ she prayed desperately, _please let him be the best. _

The first throw was a bit to the right, and Ron had somehow managed to catch it after it bounced off the ring. Not to shabby, but the point was to catch it _before_ it made contact anywhere near the hoop.

The second throw was dead center, and thankfully Ron caught it and faltered back at the impact of the Quaffle. Bit better, bit better…

The third throw is what really helped his score. Katie Bell did a double-take to the left, but chucked the ball right and Ron, at the last possible second bumped it up into the air with his fist to catch it.

Hermione smiled with glee, _Yes, he did it!_ Ron also caught the last one, his confidence mounting and his face, (along with Hermione's), glowing with pride.

After the try-outs were finally done, Harry rested back in the wooden chair reviewing his notes. He hated to admit it, but it was an even tie between Ron and Cormac McLaggen. Both had done well, but between the two, Harry wanted Ron simply because Cormac got under his skin. If anybody questioned his judgment due to Ron being his best friend well, noses are meant to be broken, as Fred and George say.

Ron jogged down to the dressing lockers, not believing his luck, mostly because he still felt rotten about not catching that first one. He tried to shake it off, but seeing how Cormac had caught that shooter, how could _he_ expect to get on the team? Maybe Harry would let him on anyway…

He sat on the bench dressing after a hot shower, reliving every moment in the air. The slight breeze had helped the humidity and the tension dwindle a little, but it was still hard with the sun beating down on his neck.

Harry turned his head in from the doorway, and smiled when he saw Ron. "Hey, how you feeling?"

"Depends, what are you about to say and what do you wanna hear?" Ron muttered as he pulled the T-shirt over his head.

Harry was still smiling, about to burst more like, "Well, what would you say if you got on?"

Ron turned and looked at Harry, asking, "Did I get it?"

Harry, still smiling, nodded vigorously and replied as he clapped Ron's shoulder, "And you will fit the uniform better too."

Ron jumped in the air, his fist blowing through an imaginary punching bag, "Yeah!"

Fred and George rambled in, both purposely crashing into Ron and contributing to his yells. After backing off, George asked, "So, ickle Ronniekins, think you can handle it?"

"Yeah, the _demanding_ pressure-"

"The _overpowering_ heat-"

"The _grueling_ practices-"

"Not that we're making you nervous, right?"

Harry grinned and shook Ron's suddenly tense shoulders, "Don't mind them Ron, they're the flops of the family."

The twins looked appalled for a minute, then their shoulders slumped as they confessed, "It's true, no wonder Hermione gets ticked easily."

"But that's also because she's a nit-picker."

"And because we are, by far, _much_ more attractive."

They left the locker room to test that latest theory on Angelina, who didn't bother to bury her disgust at their constant badgering for a date and could easily be heard from the locker room.


	18. Chapter 18

18.

Ron and Harry paraded up to the common room, both fully aware of how much homework they still had to finish but happy all the same. Hermione was back at work, but jumped out of her seat to strangle Ron in a suffocating yet congratulatory hug when she saw their grins.

"Ger…off,…Her...mione!" Ron struggled to say as he gasped for air. Reluctantly she backed off, clapping her hands together with glee.

"You did it! You did it!" she proclaimed, not able to help herself from throttling him into another bear hug just as he was beginning to breathe.

Harry laughed and clapped Ron on the back again, but didn't relieve Ron-the-prisoner from such a cheerful warden. What are friends for, anyway?

* * *

Luna and Beatrice headed down to the Great Hall to talk, they had at least a couple hours before it was officially time for lights-out. Luna was still contemplating on who had made it as the Gryffindor Keeper while Bea added bits to the conversation in order to keep from thinking about the Seeker. 

Luna slid into the bench while Bea sat across from her, their conversation taking a new turn.

"What did you think about _Spellwish_?" Luna asked Bea, whose eyes had, yet again, gone astray and into space.

"Oh, it was good. Thanks for the recommendation," Bea answered, returning her face returning to see Luna's furrowed brows. "What?" she asked the crumpled eyebrows.

"What book do you have now?"

"Oh, I forgot to grab a new one, wanna-"

"What?" Luna asked skeptically.

"I said, 'I forgot to grab a new one', do you-"

"Since when do you forget to grab books?" Luna asked, her intent face leaning forward.

"Since when do you interrupt people trying to talk?" Bea rebelled back, not wanting to give the reason.

Luna sat back and tilted her head, her voice turning more to its faraway state, "I do it a lot actually. So, what did Harry do in the library?"

Bea's arm, which was supporting her chin, fell to bang on the table in surprise. "How did you-"

"I paid attention to where you were looking the entire time. Funny, why are people surprised when I discover something?"

Bea smiled at the ending question, but decided to answer the fundamental one, "Well, Harry was in the library doing that Muggle Studies thing, the journal, you know? And it well, caught my attention, and-"

"You read it?" Luna finished, receiving a nod from Bea. "Why?"

Bea shrugged, "I don't know, curiosity I guess."

Luna smiled and lectured, "'Curiosity killed the cat.'"

"If only that cat was Mrs. Norris," Bea replied sadly, her and Luna both smiling wide.

* * *

Bea went back to the dormitory about a half-hour before lights-out, enough time to check in with Derek. 

He was sitting on his bed, reading a letter. Bea, sighing, added this to her notes and watched the mirror.

"DEREK!" a voice erupted from the lower levels. Derek rolled his eyes, and threw the letter on the desk, at a perfect angle so she could study it.

**Lucky Motel 7 **

'_**Where comfort is expected and given.'**_

_Dear Mr. Derek Ardor:_

_We are pleased to inform you that your application for our opening position as a waiter in the hotel restaurant has been accepted! Please stop in at our office by Wednesday, October 24 to pick up a schedule and uniform. _

_Thank you for your application, hope to see you soon,_

_Gregory Vigor_

_Manager_

Beatrice added this to her notes, wondering why it seemed Derek didn't seem pleased with this news. After all, wasn't the point of applying to _get_ the job?

* * *

**Sorry it's a bit short, much more is coming up! **


	19. Chapter 19

Chappie 19.

Sunday. The day that's free but has a daunting sense of another whole week of classes, homework, and the worst thing possible: the unknown. But Harry could add one more thing to this list: Beatrice.

He had made the mistake of asking Hermione how he should ask Beatrice to the next Hogsmeade trip, which was next weekend.

"Well, you _walk_ up to her," Hermione said, obviously mimicking Fred and George as she began to march slowly in place, "and ask her, 'Would you like to go to Hogsmeade with me?'" Harry didn't bother to thank her as she began to smile.

So that was his mission today: Walk and talk. He thought it funny how he honestly felt a bit more nervous when he had asked out Cho, and that was after she had _kissed_ him.

* * *

Bea sat in the Great Hall for breakfast, her seat directly across from Luna. Last night she hadn't slept well, she had a nightmare where a green notebook was chasing her to the library, then it trapped her in the Lost Books box. She was going to take it as a sign to find some time to slip the notebook into the box today.

And now here she was, standing not even three feet away from it, the notebook ready in her hand to drop, and who should walk in but Hermione Granger? The Lost Books box was placed right beside the double doors, and Hermione quickly deciphered the scene to her right. Bea lowered her eyes, let go of the book, and began to walk briskly to the exit.

Hermione had entered that day to work, but she had promised Harry to check if his notebook had turned up. Hermione sidestepped in front of the charging Beatrice, "Why did you have Harry's notebook?"

Bea shrugged and hoped her lie would somehow be convincing, "I saw it on the floor in the classroom."

Hermione nodded and headed over to the notebook, not quite finding Bea's story credible but not really caring either way; Harry got the notebook back. Bea escaped as soon as possible, knowing her face was flushed from her lying.

* * *

Ron lay on the couch in the near-empty common room after breakfast, holding his mirror on a pillow so as to rest his weary arm. Okay, so he wasn't weary, but he was lazy today. Actually, now that he thought of it, he was lazy most days. Maybe everyday. His thoughts distracted him from the snoring Anna Maria was noisily pouring out, even though it was near 9:00.

He could pretty much predict what her day would be like: Work, work, work, work a bit more, then come home and collapse.

Ron jumped as the alarm clock shrieked angrily until her hand hit it as though it was scolding her for sleeping. Anna Maria grudgingly got up, grabbed a bag of toiletries, and headed into the bathroom. She headed back down to lobby to begin her job, hoping she wouldn't get stuck busing tables. That usually meant no tip.

Ron watched her leave the room, and decided to ignore the mirror in the room and begin his diagram for Herbology instead of watching her empty puke-yellow room for another twenty minutes.

* * *

**(Ron can't see any of this right now:) **

Anna Maria grabbed a maroon-colored smock off of the hook beside the steamy kitchen and grinned. Leo was the cook at the hotel restaurant, and although he resembled an overworked bloodhound, she liked the old man.

"'Morning, Leo," she greeted him as she ambled into the kitchen. They had become good friends over the past few days, especially when the topic led to Mr. Vigor, their boss who was as annoying and pushy as humanly possible. Funny enough, many of Leo and Anna Maria's rants about him were concerning his humanity. Leo thought he might be a subspecies of a chicken. Anna Maria disagreed, Mr. Vigor looked more like a snake.

"Good morning Anna," he responded, a smile that on any other man would have looked suggestive, but it fit Leo.

"Maria," Anna Maria finished.

"Maria? I thought you were Anna," he pretended to be confused. He made this little joke every day, and to be truthful, Anna Maria had fun with it.

"No, it's 'Anna Maria', but I guess in your time people simply grunted to indicate each other. Personally, I think 'caveman' isn't the right term for it, maybe 'Neanderthal'?" Anna Maria teased. Leo bent his head and waved his arms, obviously beaten.

"Alright, one point for you. That leaves the score 3:2, me still in the lead. Be read-", Leo began to challenge her, but Mr. Vigor interrupted and entered the kitchens, his mouth pursed unhappily. Not that it was ever happy.

"Tsk tsk, what's this? No no no, let's get to work!" he announced, making everyone roll their eyes out of habit.

"Anna Maria, come here please!" Mr. Vigor demanded eagerly. Anna Maria sighed and headed over to the swivel doors.

"Yes sir?"

"I would like you to train our new employee, Derek Ardor," Mr. Vigor said, motioning to a teenage boy about her age, but very attractive. "He is going to be a waiter."

"Mr. Vigor, wouldn't you-", Anna Maria tried to protest, but Mr. Vigor's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"No, I wouldn't. Now, if you could do your job, preferably within this decade, that would be great," he replied icily, now walking back towards his office.

Anna Maria sighed, as if her plate hadn't been full enough.

* * *

**The next chappie is going to be about Anna Maria too. Please don't be mad at me for switching roles! Anna Maria and Derek Ardor's story is good too! **


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20.

Derek looked closely at the girl that, for all he knew, would make sure whether he kept this stinkin' job or not. She was Latino, maybe smart, but he noticed right away that she had muscle. Not like he had muscle_, No one has muscle like me_, he thought with a smirk, but she could most definitely kick butt if needed.

Anna Maria didn't take more than a second to look over her new trainee, but she noticed that he seriously needed an attitude adjustment. The smirk on his face was easy to read, it said: 'I'm too muscular and rich to have a job, and you can't make me do what I don't want to do.' _Well, that will have to change_, she thought.

She grabbed a smock identical to her own and shoved it in his hands. "Ever work in a restaurant before?" she asked tiredly.

"No," Derek said smugly, as if proud that he never worked a day in his life.

"Well then, welcome to torture," she replied fake-happily as she heard Leo chuckle from behind the swivel doors. She turned to yell at him, but his face had already split open and was laughing. "What?" she asked Leo, unable to shout while he was laughing.

"You hit that one on the head," Leo replied.

Derek rolled his eyes. Surely something that pays minimum wage was going to be easy. They were just trying to make him nervous or something.

"Come on, let's get started," Anna Maria gritted through her teeth as she walked up to a family of four, one woman and three screaming children, that was just sitting down. Derek followed reluctantly, already beginning to feel bored.

"Welcome to Lucky Motel 7 Restaurant, what can I get for you?" Anna Maria asked comfortably as she whipped out her pen and pad.

"PIPE DOWN, YOU THREE, OR YOU WON'T GET ANYTHING TO EAT!" the woman screeched at the kids, all dirty and poorly dressed. Derek didn't know there was a look of disgust on his face, but Anna Maria elbowed him sharply and he replaced it with annoyance.

"Can I get you something to drink?" Anna Maria asked kindly, not startled at all by the woman's screaming. It had worked though, the kids were talking quieter and they had stopped punching each other.

The woman wiped sweat off her brow with the back of her hand and nodded, "Water."

"For four?" Anna Maria asked kindly. The woman nodded, and Anna Maria pulled Derek behind her as she headed towards the kitchen.

"Get them some crayons, coloring books, anything, okay? They are in the red bin over there." Anna Maria told Derek. Derek looked around, grabbed a few, and walked back towards the table.

He set them down on the table as the woman rounded on one of the kids. She saw Derek out of the corner of her eye and gave him a grateful look. Immediately he smiled back, and headed to back to the kitchens.

Anna Maria sighed as she began to fill one glass and three kiddie cups with water. Derek came out of nowhere and started slapping on lids and sticking in straws. "Do you get that a lot in here?" he questioned.

"What?" Anna Maria asked confusedly.

"Kids and their parents screaming. Geez, why do they come out in public?" Derek asked offhandedly.

Anna Maria rounded on him, whispering fervently, "Did you see how they were dressed? She must be at her wits end, trying to feed them all and, by the looks of it, they haven't showered in weeks! For the kids, this must be the freakin' White House!" Anna Maria bit her lip, still fuming but not wanting to go on. She had grown up with people like that, and the way he resented them totally sent her over the edge…

Derek stood there in shock for a moment, then picked up the tray and brought over to the table, graciously setting the cups down. Anna Maria stood by the swinging doors so she could hear him from across the room.

"Why, is this a _princess_?" Derek alarmingly asked a little girl customer, who began to grin broadly, "Excuse me your Majesty, is your water okay?"

She began to giggle, but managed to say, "It's okay. Momma, can I have chicken nuggets?"

The mother nodded, a large grin on her face as she turned toward Derek, "Did you catch that? The princess would like chicken nuggets."

Derek bowed elegantly and nodded, "Right away, your Majesty." Derek turned towards the other children and began to talk to them likewise.

"Whoa, he's quite the charmer, eh?" Leo asked through the window in the wall between the kitchens and the restaurant. All Anna Maria could do was nod, she didn't trust her throat to make noise when it was choked up like this. _What was so familiar about him? _

Derek walked back to the kitchens, grinning as he handed Leo the order through the window. Anna Maria looked at him, and he whispered to her, "I get it, okay?"

Anna Maria nodded curtly, "Sorry about…before."

"No prob," he replied in a casual voice, which made Anna Maria look up at his face. He was grinning still, but his eyes were stern. She nodded and began to load up the plates of chicken nuggets and pizza on a tray.

Anna Maria stopped working for a moment. "What's wrong?" Derek asked. She turned on him, an outraged scowl on her face.

"It was you! You were the one that said I was teaching corner kicks wrong!" Sure, _now_ her brain clicked.

He nodded, "Well, they _were_ wrong." _Really, how could she honestly not know how to do them, and then feel she can teach others? _

"No they weren't!" she debated. Okay, so he did need an attitude adjustment, but that wouldn't stop her from pounding his head in.

"Uh, yeah, they were," he repeated, his face not grinning so much anymore.

"No, they really weren't!" _Really, he had some nerve to mess with her. _

"Look, after this shift, I'll teach you how to play soccer, okay?" he asked in the same baby-sitter voice he had used for the little girl. Anna Maria huffed and took the tray to the table, putting on a smile when she was ready to punch Derek's lights out.

Anna Maria took her fifteen minute break after the lunch crowd came. She was barely talking to Derek, still angry about his opinion on her soccer coaching abilities. But, unluckily for her, Derek decided to join her.

"Hello," he said as he plopped down across from her.

"Hello," she replied frostily. He rolled his eyes at her tone.

"Are you still mad at me for correcting you?" he asked, a half-grin making his already perfect face dreamy. But Anna Maria barely noticed, she was busy yelling.

"Correcting me? _Correcting me_?" she began, her steam beginning to build.

"Oh jeepers, here we go," Derek muttered under his breath.

Needless to say, both were soon standing and arguing for the rest of the break. The kitchen staff had set bets on who was going to win, all organized by Leo, who wished that they had gotten waiters and waitresses a long time ago. This was turning out to be too much fun!

* * *

**Hey, next chapter will be back at Hogwarts, I promise! I just was on a roll here and didn't want to stop! **

**OH, just a note, Ron doesn't know about ANYTHING in this chapter. At all. Kapeesh? Well, you are all fairly intelligent, so I guess you do. Ü**

**Just out of curiosity, (which we all hope will kill Mrs. Norris), which do you like reading better: The Trio _or_ Derek and Anna Maria? **

**See ya on da flip side, **

**Ronnie.icklekins.is.red.hot**


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21.

Harry sat at a table in the library, unconsciously drumming his fingers on the wooden tabletop as Beatrice came through the entrance, her usual pile of school books absent.

Bea was thinking about checking out some of her favorite books again for a healthy rereading, but decided against it and was going to ask Madam Prince for suggestions. Having a respectable relationship with the librarian is always an achievement for fanatical readers like herself.

Strolling up to the counter, she saw someone out of the corner of her eye. Someone snickering. What was Peeves doing with that bucket of water? And why was he zooming soundlessly towards…oh no, _Harry_.

Somehow forgetting her errand, she ran over to Harry and tried to warn him by shouting, "Harry, watch out!", but she was too late. Peeves overturned the silver bucket over Harry's head, and Harry jumped out of his chair as Madam Prince began to shriek threats at Peeves, who cackled out of the room rapidly.

Harry turned to see his attempted savior standing there wearing an irrepressible grin. He looked at his soaked clothing and imagined what the rest of him must look like, a similar smile spreading on his face.

Bea tried her very best to keep a straight face, but soon found it impossible as she saw what his usual wild hair looked like when damp. It looked like he had a truly awful toupee on, how can you not at least smile? But she saw it was okay, he was grinning too.

And out of nowhere, Harry sputtered, "Yoobuzzienextweekend?" He mentally kicked himself when he saw her confused expression, he had done this with Cho too.

"What?" Bea asked, wishing she had heard that right.

Harry took a deep breath, "Would you," he paused, remembering how Fred and George acted things out and decided _not_ to follow that example, "like to do something at Hogsmeade with me next weekend?"

Bea saw the hope in his eyes, (the only things that weren't dripping),and nodded numbly, though her heart was beating dangerously fast. Shaking her head and pulling herself together, she stammered, "Yeah, I mean, yes. Sure."

Harry smiled larger, and Bea did too. They both knew now how nervous the other was. Harry felt good, at least he wasn't the only one. Bea felt ecstatic, her older sisters were going to clobber her with questions when she told them.

Harry turned around, as did Bea, and both also wincingly realized something else: the library was quite full today. Full of gazing people.

* * *

Ron dozed off, quite predictably, and woke up in the common room about ten minutes to supper. He quickly got up and searched his papers, pleased he had finished all of his homework before sleeping. Even his Potions essay looked really neat. _Too neat_…he picked it up and examined it. _Hermione_.

Just then Hermione walked into the room, and Ron stared at her. "What?" she asked suspiciously.

Ron sighed and held up his essay as evidence, "You did my homework."

She shook her head, "No, I helped." Ron stared at her for a second, then burst out laughing. Hermione couldn't help but take part.

"No, really," he persisted, "why'd you do it?"

Hermione thought for a moment. Why had she done it? She had gone up here a while ago, had seen him sleeping, noticed he spelled his name 'Wronalld Weaseally", and couldn't help it. His face had looked so peaceful… "I don't know," she began, sending Ron into a large, overdramatic gasp.

"What? Are you feeling alright? Are your brains a little…_full_?" he asked, making her smile.

"As I was _saying_," she started again, "I knew that you would do it wrong anyway, so I decided to save some time. Are you coming or what, supper's in a few minutes," she finished, hinting at the door. Some part of her wanted him to just drop it, but she the other part liked being alone with him…

He stood there for a moment, confused but hungry, (he was usually always hungry), than shrugged and followed her down to the Great Hall. "Where's Harry?" he asked.

Hermione laughed, "Fred and George have captured him for questioning."

"About what?" Ron asked.

She laughed again, "You've been asleep long. Let me get you up to speed….."

By the time the pair reached the Great Hall, Ron had a feeling that whatever Fred and George were asking Harry, they were supplying helpful gestures and reenacting the watery scene for the sake of all those in the Great Hall who did not have the pleasure of seeing it firsthand.

He couldn't wait to see it himself. Besides, Harry had neglected to free him of Hermione when she had practically executed him with her hugs. Time to settle the score.

* * *

Beatrice sat down at the table as she did every other day, quickly propping up a book on her mug and talking to Luna as she read. However, Luna seemed remarkably quiet right now. Bea looked up and saw the back of Luna's head. She followed her sight path, and her jaw dropped as she watched the infamous Weasley twins recreate the scene at the library. Figuring out the scene, Fred was playing Harry, (he had glasses on), and George was, oh no….._her_.

She quickly looked around to see if anyone else had noticed, and found that at least three hundred pairs of eyes were looking straight at her. Bea gulped and picked up her books, her appetite disappearing.

Running up to her dormitory, she slammed the door behind her and dropped her book on the bed. Not able to find anything else to do to keep her mind busy, she pulled out her mirror.

Derek was sitting cross-legged on his bed, a notebook in his hands and his pen scribbling like mad. For an instant, Bea remembered how Harry had been writing that day in the library, but snapped back to the present scene as Derek moved.

He threw the notebook under his pillow and his pen at the desk, (narrowly missing the mirror), and headed downstairs. If he wanted something edible to eat for dinner tonight, he better get to the kitchen before Dad. Pancakes sounded good right now….

Beatrice frowned at the mirror, why did nothing ever happen when she was watching?

Then like lightning silver, scrawny handwriting began to write itself in the base of the mirror, as if she was writing it, though it wasn't in her hand.

"_Accio Notebook"_

Bea looked skeptically at the mirror, how could she perform a spell _through_ it? Curiosity gripping her, (alright, she has a problem with that), she tried it, "Accio Notebook."

Amazingly, in fact pretty much impossibly, the notebook flew beside Derek's mirror so she could read today's account. She skimmed through the paragraph and a half about Anna Maria, and came up here:

_Then, can you believe it, she's practically my boss! There's nothing awesome about that job, seriously. Well, Leo's cool. He's this old guy that works in the kitchen, and he and Anna Maria have a lot of fun. When they start burning each other with insults, it's hilarious! _

She had just finished taking her notes on it, (personally, she liked this Anna Maria, though Derek was annoyed with her), when the rest of her roommates entered the room. Quickly shuffling away her stuff, she hear Luna say, "It's okay, Beatrice, they just want to talk. Viviane wants to know if Harry likes you."

Bea froze, then sighed as she turned toward her classmates, "It's no big deal-,"

"No big deal! This like, redefines 'big deal'!" Frankie (a.k.a. Francis) objected. The girls all huddled around Bea as she sat down comfortably on her bed.

"What do you want to know? I haven't gone out with him yet," Bea began, hoping to hop in the shower before sleeping.

"Well, not too much, just what are you two going to do," Viviane started.

"What you two are going to talk about,"

"What you'll eat,"

"What he smells like,"

"Pretty basic stuff," Frankie ended with a smile. Frankie reminded everyone of a short, sugary cookie and was known for making anyone smile.

Bea (unsurprisingly) smiled back, "Is this why you're talking to me now?" she asked somewhat stiffly.

The girls exchanged looks, then Viviane answered for them, "Well, kinda, and the fact that we are all _completely_ sorry for the way we acted. Really, Luna's been telling us about you, and we are so sorry."

"Really sorry,"

"Won't happen again,"

"Cross my heart," Frankie said, taking her finger and cris-crossing her chest faithfully. Bea smiled again, _Friends._

"Well, I didn't want to say anything, but I am already your friend, Bea," Luna piped up, but somehow no one was offended. Only Luna could do that.

"Alright, first you tell me something though…." Bea prompted. The girls hung on her every word. "…what in the world will _I_ say?"

It was like a loose cannon of teen-girl magazines and advice columns had exploded, and Bea had never felt more grateful, nor more…connected. She had this image in her mind, that all these girls cared about were boys and make-up, and (although they hadn't done much so far to defend that case), there was something more there. They wanted to get to know her and she, astonishing as it sounds, wanted to get to know them.

And she had never been so happy to be there.

* * *

**Sorry it's a bit lengthy, I (again) was on a roll and I (yet again) had trouble stopping. What a shocker, right? ;)**


	22. Chapter 22

Sorry it's been so dreadfully long to anyone who has been reading this! I can't guarantee when I'll update again, so don't bother saying 'update soon' in a review. Other then that, enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 22.

_And they think they are the _only_ ones that hate Mondays_, Professor Krehope recounted bitterly as he began to read over his lesson plan for today. Not much was happening, same old, same old.

To be honest, he had thought about seriously ending the project early, he was getting bored during class. Only he, unlike his students, couldn't pass notes to help pass the time. He had to wait patiently for them to learn. He had also considered about just telling them, but where's the fun in that?

_Where indeed_, he reflected. She would be here in a month, so this mission would have to be cut a little short. She had so much to tell them, to show them, and he couldn't wait for it.

_But here they come_, he realized as he heard voices coming down the corridor.

* * *

"Frankie, of course I don't own a mini-skirt!" Bea tried to explain to her sociable friend. Frankie rolled her eyes as she mulled over the possibilities of stunning outfits for this coming weekend.

"Bea, what are you going to wear for jewelry?" Luna asked, ready to offer anything of her own. The small group of Ravenclaw girls giggled at the possibilities, all except Bea and Frankie.

"No thanks, Luna," Bea consoled her, "I don't like jewelry." _They can be so rude,_ Bea perceived about her new friends. They really were amazing, they always were there to talk to, but when it came to Bea's closest friend they were all but accepting. Well, except Frankie.

"Hey Luna, could I borrow your bracelet of Butterbeer caps?" Frankie asked, hoping, like Bea, that they would stop making it so plain about their thoughts on Luna. Frankie had really gotten to know Bea and Luna, and was surprised on how much she preferred their agreeable company.

The other's faces dropped, Frankie had really been such a spoilsport lately. "Sure!" Luna answered, not noticing the other girls but instead spotting Frankie and Bea's honest grins.

Frankie, Bea, and Luna began to fall back on the other girls, who were all prepared to accept the departure. The three girls sighed in relief at this, and saw each other out of the corners of their eyes do so.

"So, Luna, what do you think about Harry?" Frankie asked comfortably, ignoring the quick glance from Bea.

Luna tilted her head broodingly, "He's okay, he just never seems to be in a happy mood." Bea thought about this, and found herself nodding concurringly with Frankie.

"Well, he is always busy saving the world, he never seems to just be...himself," added Frankie.

"Yeah, like he always thinks we're thinking bad of him or something," Luna concluded as she and Frankie walked into Muggle Studies, Bea still standing outside the classroom. (Luna and Frankie were already partners, they had paired up in the beginning of the course.)

Beatrice stood outside the door and leaned against the stone wall, musing about what they said and still finding herself agreeing with all of it. That was the Harry she heard talked about, the one Luna and Frankie knew.

But there seemed to be another Harry, like the one that asked her to Hogsmeade, the one that wrote passionately in his journal, the one whose hair looked horrendous wet. Without knowing, a smile crept onto her face.

* * *

Harry slogged up the never-ending stairs to Muggle Studies, barely listening to Ron and Hermione as they talked. They stopped walking for a moment, and Harry halted too, giving them a questioning look. "Why'd we stop?"

Both Ron and Hermione rolled their eyes, something rarely done in accordance. "Harry," Hermione explained, "We just said that you were a lousy git."

"That needs to get a haircut," Ron added. He saw the glare Harry gave and clarified, "Just to see if you were conscious."

"Harry, if it's your date that's bugging you, I'm sure that Fred and George can help you again," Hermione offered amiably. All three friends burst out laughing, unable to imagine what horrid ideas the impish pair could come up with.

"No, really guys, it's not that. Well, it is, actually," Harry confessed as they began walking again.

"Don't look now mate, but she's _waiting_ for you," Ron whispered as they all saw Bea leaning outside the classroom door with a shady half-smile on her face.

Ron and Hermione quickly scooted in, leaving Harry unceremoniously behind. Well, Hermione basically tugged Ron in as he stood there with a goofy grin on his face, as if watching his favorite sitcom. Hermione gritted her teeth and yanked him in, hoping things would work out…

Bea snapped back to life, her smile disappearing as she saw Harry's two best friends enter, but not Harry….then she saw him waiting for her.

"Hi," Bea stumbled out, feeling quite stupid for being there. She was _just_ about to walk in, and now she has to face him… if only she had been five minutes faster…

"Hey," Harry replied guiltily, though his heart was fluttering much faster now that her eyes met his…

"Um, who made it as Keeper?" Bea asked casually, trying to find a subject.

Harry's face softened and grinned, "Ron."

She smiled enthusiastically back, "Good, I was rooting for him. So was Luna." He nodded, his grin still in place.

Then he realized the door beginning to close, and Bea had heard the footsteps to it. Both turned towards the closing door, Harry lunging for it. Before either could touch a hand on it, it sealed securely. Harry tried jiggling the knob, but it wouldn't budge, as if it cemented shut. The two shared a heavy sigh, and laughed when they heard each other do so.

Bea thought out loud, "Bet we were doing the mirrors again anyway."

Harry nodded, "And journals. What a shame we'll miss it."

"Yeah, shucks, was _really_ looking forward to an hour of silence," Bea added wistfully. They both smiled, then looked around.

"What are we going to do now?" Bea asked, feeling to some extent lost.


	23. Chapter 23

**Thanks unboundlessly to Maddie, Monnyistheman, and anyone who reads this! Not sure when I can update again, sorry! Luv ya all, enjoy! **

* * *

23.

Ron and Hermione heard the door slam shut and gave each other frantic looks. Harry and Bea were the only two missing from the classroom as Professor Krehope addressed the class:

"Now, the projects, I say, are going pretty smoothly, but I'm afraid that we'll have to end them after this month," he told the class, who gave some pretty mixed emotions. Some kids looked at the ceiling at muttered thanks under their breath, but others seemed puzzled, as if it wasn't rational for the teacher to take charge of the class. "Sorry if this disappoints you, but I think you will rather like what we are doing afterward, very much indeed," he finished, waving a hand to signal time for them to work.

They pulled out their materials and began working, Hermione and Ron sharing one last worried glance before beginning. Hermione, for one, was concerned for Harry's well being while Ron was more irritated at the fact that he was working while Harry was roaming free.

Harry shrugged to answer Bea's question, "I don't know."

Bea pursed her lips, thinking of a couple things to do during this unexpected, unconstrained time. Then Harry interrupted her thinking, saying, "I was going to go visit Hagrid, but I expect he's teaching right now."

Bea nodded, then suggested more to herself then the pair of them, "Well, it's been a while since I sent a letter to my sisters, maybe-"

"Do you want to go grab a bite?" Harry interrupted her again, not really wanting her to leave. It was unreasonable, maybe, but there it was.

She looked surprised for a moment, then puzzled. "But isn't breakfast over?"

Harry gave her a rascally half-grin, "Not if you know where to go." She grinned back and followed him as he jerked his head towards the stairs and began to descend.

After walking down the superfluous stairs, they stopped a moment to catch their breath. Bea stood, her hands on her hips as she breathed while Harry leaned against the stone wall, watching her out of the corner of his eye. Quickly, she wiped her forehead and then asked, "Where are we going?"

Harry, his breathing now much more regulated, told her, "The kitchens."

She grinned, "Oh, you know where they are? Are we allowed in?"

Harry smiled, he wasn't used to explaining things like this, "I've got connections."

She laughed, then answered his puzzled look, "Harry Potter, you were _born_ with connections." He couldn't deny it at all, and laughed too. Beatrice was a lot easier to hang out with than he realized. Much easier than Cho had been.

After a while they arrived at the kitchens, climbing in through the portrait hole and into the steaming, busy space. A second hadn't passed when a small house-elf ran to Harry, grabbed him around the knees, and exclaimed, "Harry Potter sir! Welcome! What can Dobby get you?"

Harry smiled at Bea, then answered Dobby, "Um, do you have any leftover snacks?"

Dobby grinned and nodded, bustling over to the other house-elves and directing them what to do. Two chairs and a table sat empty by the fire, and they were soon pushed into them by the little horde of house-elves who weren't needed in the kitchen.

"Thanks," Bea told them after they had brought her and Harry plates of cookies and other various sumptuous treats. They smiled and bowed, off to begin preparing lunch.

Harry smiled apologetically, "They can be a little…forceful."

Bea grinned, "It's in their nature, I guess."

"Maybe you should join S.P.E.W.," Harry thought aloud, and after receiving a questioning look, explained to her Hermione's fascination with house-elf rights. Bea seemed to think it was more than funny and that Hermione had a point, but she still laughed when Harry told her of the unidentifiable hats she had tirelessly knitted.

"What time is it?" Bea asked after they had only sampled everything.

"We got a half hour left until our next class," Harry answered as he looked at his wristwatch.

Bea nodded, "Do you want to take a walk?" She really didn't know where the words came from, but she didn't stop to think as they fell out. Bea glimpsed nervously up at his humored green eyes, knowing her blush must be beat-red right now.

Harry, seeing her redden, smiled, "Sure."

* * *

Ron jotted down a few notes, Anna Maria must already be waitressing down in the restaurant, and rocked back in his chair as a note rapped his hand. Picking up the paper, he read Hermione's frenzied inquiry, and her voice rang through his head as if she was verbally, frantically asking him: 

**Where do you think they are? Surely they aren't still outside the door. **

Ron smiled and jot down his answer:

Harry's probably just getting to know her is all. Bet you five Knuts that Harry's using Fred and George's plan right now. 

Hermione slid the note under the table and read it, her jaw dropping. Ron chuckled under his breath at her astonishment, and Hermione scribbled angrily back:

**Shows what _you_ know. No bet. **

Aw, c'mon, I'm just kidding. How long until class is over? 

**Ron, we still have thirty minutes left. You still didn't answer my question. **

Fine, I bet that Harry is flying around the Quidditch field while Beatrice _ooh's_ and _ahh's_ his _graceful_ form. At least that's what Romilda Vane does. 

**I told you, I'm not betting anything. Oh, I think they are taking a walk right now. **

How do _you_ know that? 

* * *

**Hey, this is Ronnie.icklekins.is.red.hot, _not_ Hermione, (I wish, right?), and I just want to leave a little footnote: **

**Romilda Vane is the chick that gives Harry the love-potion spiked candy, which Ron the Clueless devours, and it goes on and on….(book 6, chapter titled 'Birthday Surprises'). Personally one of my favorite parts of all the books. **


	24. Chapter 24

24.

Kicking an absent stone, Bea admitted to Harry as they walked on a trail along various sites along the castle campus, "I never expected you to ask me, you know."

"What?" Harry asked, not following her train of thought at all. His face turned from looking around at the edge of the forest to her coloring face.

"I never expected you to ask me to Hogsmeade. I thought you hated me," she went on, determined not to look at his eyes until she heard him chortle.

"_Hate_ you? For what?" Harry asked lightly.

"I read your journal," Bea explained further.

Harry gave a little 'pshaw', and said, "No, I wasn't mad. Actually I, I kinda liked having someone understand it all." Now it was Harry's turn to look away, but he couldn't help glancing at her face.

She was smiling, "Harry, I totally know what you mean. Growing up with three older sisters, much older, I might add, the closest one to me is 20, but anyway…They always say they know exactly what I'm feeling, blah blah blah, but I get the feeling that they don't." Bea wondered if her stomach should feel tight from confessing this, but it just didn't.

He nodded, "You do get it. But instead of sisters, I got Ron and Hermione. Well, Ron's as close as a sister as Hermione is," he stopped to let himself and Bea laugh, "But they both have really close families, they just don't get some stuff."

Bea saw eye to eye on this, but something else had popped in her head, "Yeah. Anyway…." Her voice trailed off, virtually giving permission for Harry to pester it out of her.

"What?" he questioned.

"Well, what are we doing in Hogsmeade this weekend?" she asked uncertainly. Maybe she should have just waited until Saturday…oh well, she was a curious being.

"Er, I was thinking we could just walk around, _possibly_ eat someplace if by some strange coincidence we feel the urge to feed ourselves," Harry prompted, making Bea laugh again. It was really easy to be himself around her, it was almost weird how easy. Weird, but extremely comfortable.

"Sorry for asking, but Frankie and Viviane wanted to know," Bea defended.

"Oh?" Harry encouraged her to elaborate.

She smiled and rolled her eyes, "You might not be aware of this Harry, but you are quite a public figure."

Harry smiled too, "No, I had a feeling that was why." He paused to look at his watch. "Twenty-five more minutes until class starts," he announced sadly.

She nodded, "Bummer." She was enjoying herself _way_ too much…

"Can I ask you something?" Harry inquired.

Bea smiled, "You just did, but I'll allow another one. I'm generous like that sometimes."

"Well, erm, do you, uh," Harry started, beating around the bush. Actually, he would rather beat all over a whole forest right now, but he was so intrigued…

"Spit it out, Harry," she interrupted teasingly.

He swallowed, "You said you had sisters, but you didn't say anything about parents…" He let his voice trail to suggest the question instead of directly asking it.

She looked at her feet as they walked, "They died last year."

He nodded. "Sorry," he muttered.

She shook her head, "No, don't say that. Please, that's what _everyone_ says. It's like the ultimate pity saying."

He thought a moment, agreed with this, and asked, "Alright then, should we start a club?"

She stared at him in disbelief, but saw he was joking and didn't feel offended. Playing along, she added, "We'll get matching jackets, right?"

Harry smiled, "Yeah, I'll have _'Hazardous Celebrity' _on mine,"

"And I'll have _'Lil' Dangerous Sis' _on mine." They both laughed for a minute or so, their eyes locking. Without another thought, Harry captured Bea's swinging hand, smiling as she blushed a little and knowing that she wanted it too as she gave a little squeeze.

* * *

Ron turned to stare in disbelief at Hermione, whose jaw was also hanging. Snapping it shut and returning to her work, Hermione deceitfully passed a note to Ron:

**Well, that was quick, don't you think? **

Did they plan this? 

**I don't think so, how could they? **

About to slither it back, Ron's hand fell under the imprisonment of Professor Krehope's. Ron's face, and Hermione's, rapidly transformed to a deep red, (for Ron, particularly around the ears), as the professor skimmed through the contents of the note.

Professor Krehope's head turned earnestly to the window as he spotted his two students, holding hands and strolling along as if they were in some other world. His heart pounded, he hadn't even realized they were absent, and without a shred of doubt knew this meant two detentions.

His first two.

Gruffly tucking the note into his inside-vest pocket, he went back to his desk and began to fill out two detention slips. Surely, _surely_ he wouldn't become one of _those_ teachers? Detention after detention, without a care to the kid?

_No, not me, _he thought, _I couldn't. I _refuse_ to. _And with that, twenty minutes remained in which he filled by finding a range of dutiful chores for Harry and Beatrice to do tomorrow night during their detentions.

* * *

When the bell rang, all the students got up to leave to their next class. Harry and Bea looked frantically around the hallway that they had roamed to after the trail and saw the students rupturing from the doors.

"Bye," Harry barked before he ran towards the greenhouses.

"See ya," Bea shouted quickly as she sped toward the dungeons for Potions. As she joined the crowd heading downstairs, Luna and Frankie caught up with her.

"So? What were you two doing?" Luna asked simply.

"Yeah, spill," Frankie demanding, her smile massive.

Bea laughed and told them very plainly that they went to the kitchens then for a walk. As you can imagine, this wasn't far-reaching enough of an explanation for Frankie, who was launching a thoroughly detailed cross-examination. Then again, that's Frankie, who from that day on accompanied Luna and Bea everywhere to everyone's pleasure.


	25. Chapter 25

**I guarantee that your jaw will drop at the end of this chapter! Or, if it doesn't, at least you will giggle. If you don't do that either, oh well, it's no skin off of my nose. At least **_**I**_** had fun writing it!**

25.

That week, one might declare, went by very fast. Students were bustling back and forth to find every last intricate detail about the new celebrity couple: Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, and Bea, is it? That girl from Ravenclaw, was it?

Ron and Hermione had been very encouraging and had backed off numerous times. Well, Hermione had dragged Ron out of the awkward situations anyway. Soon the groups had merged, the trio and Luna, Bea, and Frankie.

Frankie had been open and easy to talk to for everyone, and she had been especially attentive towards Ron. Hermione had shot her daring looks, but it was challenging for anyone to be unpleasant to Frankie, she was always nice and cheerful. Hermione had to, in the end, give up most of her time alone with Ron, which of course he didn't observe in the slightest.

Luna and Hermione had thus formed an odd sort of friendship, one that had many arguments that ended abruptly by Luna saying, "Oh, I guess you just believe what you want then." The disputes usually were left at this, and only made Hermione long for her less amiable, but more rewarding bickerings with Ron.

And since our two key characters had landed themselves with detention, that is where this chapter reminisces:

* * *

"Are you serious?" Harry and Bea simultaneously (and incredulously) asked when Professor Krehope revealed their punishment. Krehope winced at their soliciting, he had _tried_ to be nice about the whole punishment thing.

"Surely that isn't too harsh? All I want is the desks straightened out and the room dusted and swept," Professor Krehope thought it over aloud.

As one might imagine, this was, by far, the easiest consequence either student had received. Professor Krehope, bless his heart, always mistook his student's meanings.

"Are you kidding?" Harry began again, then catching Bea's eye, lowered his voice and finished composedly, "Yeah, it's okay. I think between us we can finish it."

Professor Krehope smiled, "Good, I didn't want to make it too hard. But if students ask, be sure to tell them how bad it was, I don't want to give out more detentions."

"Sure thing, Professor," Bea supplied as Harry tried to keep from laughing. How…_contradictory_ Professor Krehope was from _Snape_…

The professor grinned again and waddled back to his office to devour his novel, he was a sap for a good book. Harry and Bea snickered quietly so as not to be heard before whipping out their wands and finishing their penalty within ten minutes. Apparently Professor Krehope had not thought to take away their wands, which was fine by them.

Only _now_ what to do?

"So," Beatrice started ineptly after catching his stare at her, "Another walk?" He smiled and nodded.

Once they were on their usual trail, Bea asked, "Are you always this quiet? It's not what I'm used to."

"No, but I wanted to ask you something," Harry answered as his eyes eloquently met hers. "I mean, I know that you must get asked if your dating me, right?" It was obvious that Harry was having difficulty asking this as he swung her hand timidly.

"Yes," she answered, swaying his hand when he had stopped.

"Well, um, I was just wondering what your reply gen-generally is," Harry stumbled.

Bea could not resist from smiling, "Yes. Harry, is that all that's troubling you? You seem…on edge just ask me if I'm dating you which I would think is a _bit_ evident, especially to you."

Harry smiled briefly then admitted, "No, I also wanted to ask…what your favorite color is."

Bea laughed out of surprise, "Really?"

"Yeah," Harry answered, his smile now permanent.

"Um, alright, only if you tell me yours," Bea ventured.

"Deal."

"It's blue, now fess up," Bea smiled too.

Harry grievingly sighed, "I must admit that mine is green. What's your favorite food?"

By the time Harry was done with the questionnaire, they had goose bumps on their arms from the drop in warmth and neither could remember the last time they saw anyone else's eyes.

* * *

Fred and George barged into the common room, their hands swinging with Butterbeers. "Drinks all around!" Fred yelled merrily as they tossed them to various students.

Ron and Hermione sat near the fire, Ron standing to catch a bottle, Hermione frowning. "Where did you get those?" she nagged to the twins.

"Ah, Hermione," George began as he shoved a bottle into her hands, "The difference between you and us,"

"Is that we know when not to ask questions," Fred finished as he twisted one open for a younger student.

"So what are celebrating?" Ron posed as he happily sank back into his chair.

Fred and George shared an elfin smile before joyfully announcing to one and all, "Harry's in the broom closet!"

And so the entire room gleefully chanted, "Harry's in the broom closet! Harry's in the broom closet! Harry's in the broom closet!"

* * *

**Giggle giggle giggle giggle…**


	26. Chapter 26

Let me just quickly thank everyone who is reading and reviewing; it was staggering to find out the next day how many people had read! Well, enjoy!

26.

**And so it was the weekend, where this chapter now begins:**

Harry, Ron, Hermione, Luna, Bea, and Frankie all headed to the Three Broomsticks to guzzle some Butterbeer as it was the middle of October and the wind whipped their faces sharply. The Three Broomsticks, however, was vastly crowded so Harry compromised to meet there later, he was going to take a walk with Bea.

Bea was, of course, surprised at first at her and Harry's quick departure from the group, but she wasn't scared. On the contrary, she was glad to have some time alone with him. They hadn't talked much that week, as it seemed whatever hallway they were in was swarming with other students. Every. Single. Time.

Then again, there had been that absurd rumor about the two of them shaking up in the broom closet. Alright, maybe it wasn't all that absurd, they had been in an empty classroom together for a couple hours for detention…But Harry had been a gentleman and only kissed her on the cheek. Well, at first, anyway…

"So," Harry began as they stepped out of the doorway and into the blustery weather, "where to?"

"Anywhere with heat," Bea replied before the wind stung her face. Harry clasped her hand and led her into Zonko's, which was similarly packed and resembling the Three Broomsticks. Bea shot him a questioning look, but he simply smiled and steered her upstairs to where there was only dusty old boxes for company.

"Wow, very charming Harry," Bea commented on the state of the room, "Dust _and_ spider webs? Must have taken months of precise planning to accommodate this." There was a sweet aroma to the space, but aside from that it was chilly, though much better in comparison with the strong air stream outside.

Harry laughed, for once it was ecstatic and loud, he wasn't afraid of being over heard now, after all it was entirely impossible with the massive herd of students below. "Yeah, thanks for noticing. It's nice when your work is appreciated, forgetting the amount of sarcasm used." He didn't let go of her hand, but now held it gently as they watched their breath rise in the cold.

Now Bea laughed, "Then consider it appreciated. C'mon, really, what's up? Was the attic in the Shrieking Shack taken?"

Harry laughed again, making Bea feel warm everywhere and said, "Well, I just thought that I should warn you."

"Warn me? Of what?" Bea said, but she saw Harry's easy smile slide a little.

"Of the reporters that tried to follow us up here," Harry finished with a sad note.

"Oh," was all Bea could say for moment. Then, "It doesn't matter."

Harry looked at her skeptically, "What do you mean 'it doesn't matter'?"

Bea sighed and smiled meekly, "I already told you, (since you had to ask) that I'm dating you. Period. Whatever comes with it isn't really relevant to me."

Harry stood there staring at her for a moment, opened his mouth to say something, the closed his jaw with a snap. "Oh, come on!" Bea moaned, "You can't do that, just say it! Otherwise I'll have to try and guess what you're thinking."

Harry raised an eyebrow, "You really want to know?"

She grinned and elbowed him, their hands still attached, "Yes."

"You are amazing." There, he said it. Harry watched out of the corner of his eye to see her smile and blush. And incredibly enough he didn't mind, it meant he was the first, the very first, to tell her so. That's all he wanted.

"You too," she replied, not hastily but honestly. Then she laughed, "You want to know something?"

"What?"

"I used to think you were a pompous jerk."

"And I used to think of you as a geek."

"Touché," she said, and they both grinned, their hands squeezing a little tighter. After a silent moment or two, Bea asked, "So, you said something about eating if we feel the urge to feed ourselves."

"Can't believe you remembered that," Harry recalled. "But I get the hint. Where to?"

"Anywhere with heat," they both chorused, Harry remembering her response last time as she expectantly repeated it.

As soon as Harry flung open the door from the candy shop, two reporters stood there, flashing their eager cameras and attacking them with impertinent questions. But Harry never let go of her hand, and it was the first time he didn't have to face the stupid paparazzi alone.

* * *

Ron, Hermione, Frankie, and Luna huddled around a small woodsy table at the Three Broomsticks trying to reawaken their numb fingers and noses. As soon as that was accomplished, Frankie asked, "Four Butterbeers, then?" Hermione acutely noticed to whom Frankie's question was asked, (Ron).

"Yeah, I think so," Ron said, looking to Hermione and Luna for confirmation. "Hey, where's Luna?"


	27. Chapter 27

27.

The gang headed outside the bar, keen to find their often-forgetful friend. Hermione had honestly thought she had just gone to the bathroom, but after checking there it was plain that Loony Luna had left the building altogether.

"Luna! Luna!" Frankie called, oblivious to the strange looks she was getting from the occasional passersby. Ron and Hermione looked in on various crowds, seeing if their friend had somehow wandered to another cluster.

"Where could she be?" Frankie wondered aloud after ten minutes of frightful searching.

* * *

"Oh, thank God _that's_ over," Bea sighed happily once the reporters had gotten their juicy story.

Harry smiled, "Agreed. Hey, should we head back to the Three Broomsticks?" It pleased him how well Bea had answered the reporters harping questions, and with ease and humor. She had them eating out of the palm of her hand, and this from the girl who had thought him a brute…

Bea's face dropped and shook her head, "No need, Hermione, Ron, and Frankie are right there. Where's Luna?"

"We don't know," Hermione admitted, "She sort of ran off."

"Why?" Bea demanded. Luna was her person, her friend…

"How should I know?" Hermione shot back. After a deep breath, she continued, "You know how brainless she can be."

"Hermione-," Ron started.

"Brainless? She's our friend! Let's just keep on looking for her, alright?" Frankie resolved, heading out in front of the group to lead the expedition.

Hermione held back in the troupe, taking the last place beside Ron. "You shouldn't have said that, you know," Ron said honestly.

Hermione sighed, "I know, it's just that she's taking over."

Ron looked at her quizzically, "Luna?"

"No, I wish. Frankie."

"Oh, come off it, she's just worried about Luna," Ron began, but Hermione was already shaking her head.

"No, it's more than that. Oh, never mind. Let's catch up with the others," she replied before Ron could attempt to find out what she meant.

Bea and Frankie were linked arm in arm, searching each stranger for Luna's inquiring face. Harry looked everywhere they looked until something caught his attention. Wait, was it? Yes, it was, Luna! "Luna!" he shouted, Frankie and Bea following.

"Where have you been?" Frankie asked, then noticing the teen girl with silky blonde hair beside Luna, said, "Sorry for barging in like this, but we've just been looking like mad for Luna."

"Oh, it's okay," Luna reassured her perplexed friends. "I'll say goodbye. Goodbye, Georgiana."

The blonde girl smiled, her face illuminating, then skipped gracefully away without saying a word. She had on a dark blue coat, one that complimented her blonde hair wonderfully, and her lips had been, quite curiously, orange.

"Who was that?" Harry asked.

"Oh, just an old pal of mine," Luna reminisced comfortably, "Georgiana. Well, I actually met her today, just now. But she's nice. Hmm, anyone up for some pudding?"

Everyone was quiet for a moment except for Frankie, who smiled and linked arms with Luna, "Sure, I'll buy."

"Only Luna," Bea sighed as Harry took her hand again as they followed Frankie and Luna.

Hermione looked awkwardly at Ron, then shook her head, saying, "Ron, it's no use. No matter how long you watch Georgiana float away, it won't make her come back."

Ron shook his head, focusing his eyes from Georgiana's path to Hermione's giggling face. "I was not-,"

"Was too."

"Was n-, well, alright, fine. You know, now that Luna said it, I fancy some pudding too," Ron thought aloud comically as the last two followed the rest of the group.

* * *

A girl, blonde and wiry with orange lips from her Zonko sucker, quickly escaped to the refuge above the Three Broomsticks. The room wasn't much, she couldn't afford much of anything right now, but she was to be here for some time.

At least, until Uncle Krehope sends for her. Then she would be in the castle, _Hogwarts_ for goodness sakes! Just thinking about it made her face split open and beamingly smile. Finally, all that she had prepared for would be worthwhile…

Georgiana LeWispon, (but as her far-off friends know her, 'Ana'), looked mournfully around her dreadfully muddled room and realized just how much like her only uncle she was. Dutifully picking up a stray T-shirt and throwing it into the open drawer across the room, the breeze created sent her carefully written papers sitting on the bureau flying.

"Oh, shoot," she muttered as she tried to order them as she had written them. Hours and hours she had worked on them, until her fingers had screamed with protest she had scribbled all she wished to say, words that gripped her entire being. Oh what she would give to have them heard.

And any day now they would be.


	28. Chapter 28

Chappie 28.

Monday morning. _Again_. It never seems to be quite realistic until you wake Monday morning, that you should only have to live through one or two Mondays before the entire cycle ends. But, here we are, another Monday, just as monotonous as the last.

But today was a momentous one for our Professor Krehope. Finally, after two whole months on the mirror projects, with nothing for him to do, he would become an actual teacher. _Sitting at your desk for two months doesn't count as teaching,_ he rationalized, _Teachers need to keep the class alive, awake, and alert, _(Yes, he had gotten this exact sentence from one of his ten self-help books, this one titled: _A Teacher's Beginning Guide, Make Those Kids Love You!_).

* * *

"Okay, who else is sick of mirrors or journals?" Ron quizzed the Gryffindor table at breakfast. Instinctively twenty-some hands rose. "Thank God, I thought I was the only one going mad." 

"Not mad, maybe 'nutty'," Fred supplied thoughtfully as he picked through his eggs,

"Or 'loopy'," George added as he stretched his neck.

"But not 'mad'. The phrase 'going mad' implies that you were at one time sane," Fred went on.

"Which, I'm sorry to say, does not apply to you, Ronnie," George finished.

"Whatever, I'm just glad that today is the day it's over with," Ron concluded. "Ana Maria ran off with Derek What's-his-face, and she forgot to grab the mirror. Luckily I've been able to record what the inside of a garbage bag looks like, and the rotting tomato I've been squished up against is the color of a-,"

"Hold up, you haven't been in on a love story. Made me wanna puke once or twice, the way they vow undying love for each other," Bea interjected from across the isle since Ravenclaws musn't sit beside Gryffindors. Harry caught her eye and she blushed, she hadn't really thought through what she said before letting it out.

Harry saw her cheeks redden, he loved how he could do that to her. She was so shy sometimes, but then she had charmed the boogers out of those reporters for him…

"Well, I'm glad that it's all over with," Hermione added to the argument, "But it's been nice to have an easier class than Potions." A soft mumble of agreement spread throughout the hall, (more than one table could agree to this).

"Amen," Frankie sang before continuing, "I swear Snape has been trying to _drown_ us in essays. Can you imagine what his face would look like if we all passed? 'You little monsters, do you really think passing is going to prepare you for _next_ year's Potions? You have no idea what torture I shall inflict upon you next year! Ha!'" Frankie did her best impression of the slimy teacher, and the entire hall laughed, (after it had been established that Snape was not present).

"Oh, time to roll. I wonder what Herbology holds in store today," Luna wondered lightly as she looked at her watch. "See you later."

All the students exited the Great Hall like a herd of cattle, same thing day after day. Maybe that's the worst part about Mondays, they are too easy to fall back into rhythm with.

So after everyone had endured their first classes without much success at staying conscious, our troupe headed to Muggle Studies, their numbed minds slowly tingling awake at the wonders of what the next class held.

"Good morning! Good morning, come in everyone, yes, that's right," Professor Krehope called too loudly for a Monday as his students trudged to the door after the extensive stretch of stairs.

"Alright, everyone in place? Good! No one missing. Okay, if everyone with mirrors could bring them forward and place them, um," Professor Krehope cleared a spot on his heaping desk, "here, and your notebooks, ah," he shoved some more papers aside, "here."

Ron was probably the first to reach the desk, but everyone soon did as they were told. "Perfect, now if the others could set their notebooks," again he swept papers and folders to one side, "here, that'd be great!"

Once everyone was seated again, Professor Krehope, his shiny round head turning pink with eagerness, took the front of the room again. Everything was quiet for a few moments, then he asked, "Well, what did you learn?"

Hermione's hand, (predictably), burst through the air. "Yes, Ms. Granger?"

"Well, I think that we've learned all similarities and differences that we have with Muggles," she quipped contentedly. A few kids rolled their eyes at her straight-out-of-the-textbook answer.

"Well, yes, I suppose, but haven't you learned anything else?" Professor Krehope asked every student except Hermione, who had shot her hand up again.

Professor shook his head, chuckling, "No, this is an open debate here, alright? No hands, just be respectful and hear everyone's response." He walked up to the board, grabbed up a short piece of chalk, wrote on one side 'Differences' and on the other 'Similarities'.

Krehope turned back to the students, who were giving each other disbelieving looks, and said, "Well? Anybody?"

Ron timidly rose his hand, but Krehope shook his head. "No hands, just say it Mr. Weasley."

"Um, well, one difference is that they have to very responsible," Ron tried, but Krehope wrote nothing on the board.

"Are you saying that Wizard teenagers are irresponsible?" Krehope asked with a small grin on his face.

Ron shook his head, "Well, they have to do more work since they don't have magic."

"Like what?"

"Well, like, they have to start earning money earlier?" Ron tried, his voice squeaking a little.

"Yes! Exactly! Thank you, Mr. Weasley," Krehope nearly shouted as he scribbled it underneath 'Differences'. He twisted back towards the class, "So, what else?"

The entire class period had been, by far, the second-most fun class any student ever remembered, (the first was with Professor Lupin and the boggart).

If you were in that room, you would have felt like they did, this…_good_ feeling, like they actually had a say for once. No one got dirty looks, no one was quiet or shy, and absolutely everyone loved voicing an opinion.

Professor Krehope had happily used up five pieces of chalk, and it was obvious that they were _understanding_. As a treat for their wonderful participation, Professor Krehope gave out no homework and wished them a happy lunch five minutes before any other class was released.

Professor Krehope sat back merrily in his chair and sighed thankfully, thinking, 'This_ is why I'm here'. _


	29. Chapter 29

29.

"Bet you wish you were back in Muggle Studies, Seamus," Ron teased during lunch.

Seamus and Dean both shot him a look, but Ron didn't care. He had just found out that the Divination class had been measuring each other's earlobes to determine their lifespan. And that Seamus was expected to live until he was eight years old. Obviously this hadn't impressed Professor Trelawney, so she had issued them a two-page essay on why this skill was particularly important to possess.

"Oh, shove it Weasley," Seamus muttered.

"Hey, what do you think we're doing tomorrow in Muggle Studies?" Harry asked Hermione loudly to avert their attention.

"I don't know," Hermione started.

"What?" Fred and George shouted after spitting out their food.

Hermione rolled her eyes, "Oh, _you_ two shove it, I don't read minds."

"Why is everyone shoving it today?" Frankie asked amusingly as she sat down at the neighboring Ravenclaw table.

"Oh, simply because everyone is in the shoving mood," George said indifferently.

"Or, more or less, we want everyone else to shove it themselves," Fred thought over.

"How can you guys be in a bad mood? We just had so much fun in Muggle Studies!" Frankie tried to reason.

"Never thought I'd hear 'fun' and 'Muggle studies' in the sentence," Fred muttered to George under his breath, George nodding in agreement.

"Ms. Jobey? A word, if you will," Professor McGonagall announced behind the twins, making them jerk at her firm and unexpected tone.

"Oh, Professor, we're up now," Fred breathed heavily.

"Mr. Weasley, if I ever had either you or your brother here awake in my class I would be able to tell if there was a difference. Ms. Jobey, it'll only take a minute," McGonagall asked Frankie from the Ravenclaw table. Frankie did not seem surprised, on the contrary, she sighed and nodded expectantly.

When Luna asked her in Muggle Studies what McGonagall had wanted, Frankie laughed and replied, "Oh, nothing, she just wanted to make sure that I was getting that spell, the Locomotion one, right. I was having a bit of trouble with it yesterday, you saw."

As it just so happens, not that much happened the rest of the day. In fact, compared to the Great Muggle Studies Debate, every other class was dreadfully dull. Back to the typical Monday tendency.

So, to save you from sniveling and whimpering for more to read, let's just fast forward to the next day, right before Muggle Studies.

But before we begin, let me remind you that Tuesdays are not much better than Mondays. True, it is one less day to slog through, but Tuesdays are sometimes worse because you were up most of the previous night cramming for tests and scribbling essays.

Now that's off of my chest, on with the day:

"What…kind…of…_idiot_…builds…this…many…_stairs_?" Ron heaved up the spiraling stairwell up to Muggle Studies. "Why aren't you dead yet?" he asked Hermione, who wasn't sweating a drop.

"Oh, yesterday in Potions we learned how to make the Preventing Perspiration Infusion, so I just pocketed some of it after Snape graded it," Hermione explained as she pulled out a quarter-filled vile of blue-greenish semi-liquid.

"Hermione, that is seriously smart," Harry commented as he wiped his forehead from beads of sweat.

"Yeah, would it kill you to share next time?" Frankie demanded with a half-smile on her face.

Hermione grimaced at Frankie's comment, she had come to regard Frankie as a pleasant, congenial, biting Blast-Ended Skrewt.

At long last they all ended up at the door usually open to their classroom, but today a sign hang from the front, saying: 'MUGGLE STUDIES CLASS: REPORT TO GREAT HALL AFTER LUNCH'.

"Oh, no way!" Ron protested at the sign as if demanding it to read something else.

"Ron, chill, it's easier going down anyway," Harry sighed, also angered by the sign.

"But we still _came_ _up_," Bea whined.

"But at least we didn't stay in the Great Hall," Luna observed.

All five students whirled around at Luna's comment. "What on earth do you mean?" Harry asked.

"If we had stayed in the Great Hall, then we would have disturbed the Rite of the Fourth Tuesday in November," Luna said with a straight and guiding face.

"Dare we ask what that is?" Ron asked, still huffy over his overexertion of stairs as they all headed down.

"Oh, don't you know? Trumpling Orpilas escape from their pods every fourth Tuesday of November and scavenge around for crumbs in the Great Hall," Luna went further to explain.

"You're right Luna, thank goodness we didn't get in the way of their scavenging," Bea commented politely as she and Harry shared a smile. Hermione rolled her eyes to keep from battling simple facts with Luna while Ron and Frankie also shared a smile.

But as they arrived with beads of sweat piling on their foreheads, (except for Hermione), they found the doors closed and there was more than the Muggle Studies class standing outside of them. If truth be told, Harry would bet his Firebolt that the entire school was there.

"What's going on?" he asked Neville, who was shoved in the crowd beside him.

"No one knows, just that we were all told to come here, I guess," he mumbled. "I really hope they let us in soon. Davey Grinchaw, the Head Boy from Hufflepuff, is going nuts. He thinks he would have been told if something like this was planned."

Sure enough, a freckled, bespectacled ginger-haired boy stood nearest to the brass door handles, (he had pushed everyone aside to reach that frontal position), was shouting in his furious lisp, "I thould think that they would have thaid thomething to me!"

And the doors swung open, banging the Great Hall's stone walls. At first everyone rushed in, then they all stopped, leaving those in the back of the horde still outside the hall and clueless.

"What's going on? Why aren't they moving?" Ron bellowed.

Davey Grinchaw walked forward from the frozen crowd, examined the room closer, then shouted back at the school, "Well, why aren'th you moving? Let'th go sit down!"

"We can't, stupid!" a kid from near the front yelled, "There aren't any tables or anything!"

Davey seemed to be at a loss for an answer for a minute, then he said, "Well, let'th all come in and…and…take a theat on the floor, alright?"

Slowly they did as he said, and as our trio and friends crept into the hall they saw the reason for the holdup.

* * *

**Let me just take a moment and congratulate everyone who has been reading this story. I'm a horrid writer, so this really surprises me if you stayed awake these past 29 chapters, (much like our beloved Weasley twins). **

**Coming soon is a different game completely, one beginning with chapter 30. Stay tuned and see why. **


	30. Chapter 30

Finally, Chapter 30.

**With a cliff hanger like that, you might predict that this chapter will tell you a shocking, daring, captive story that breathes the very air of hope and adventure. **

**Or you might suggest that who ever is writing this has got a bit of a problem rambling in the beginning of her chapters. **

**You might also think that she really has no idea where she was going with this story. **

**All of you out there that even considered this last option are wrong. This story might not be the new epic story in literature, but this is something that I've been dying to write, that these words have been bottled up for so long I can't wait to scream them out. **

**And it only took me 30 chapters to get there.

* * *

**

Ron, Harry, Hermione, Bea, Luna, and Frankie all stood in shock for a few moments at the state of the Great Hall. Not only were the tables and chairs gone, but everything was replaced by bean bag chairs and a mixture of junk like lava lamps and bead curtains….

"Let's sit on those," Frankie suggested the group of bean bags and peanut shaped chairs. It took a few minutes for everyone to settle in them, but nevertheless it was hard to be stressed when their seats crinkled comfortably as they laid back.

Every student was whispering their suspicious on the decorations to each other in fervent whispers, as though they were the only ones doing so.

Then, out of nowhere music blasted a fun, heavy beat with syncopated instruments raving in unison.

A blonde girl, not completely unknown, came out of the cool blue ceiling, twirling in the air and landing softly to her feet. No sooner had she landed did she begin dancing. Not the wild-shake-your-booty-dance that Luna loves, but actually choreography that seemed to defy gravity over and over again.

When the song came to a close, she landed in the splits in the center of the room. Slowly, sweepingly she stood, surveying the room as they surveyed her.

"That's, that's," Ron tried to place the face with a name.

"Georgiana," Luna said simply.

Georgiana was in a relaxed pair of faded jeans, her candy-apple red T-shirt read 'Geez, Read Your Own T-Shirt', and her golden hair was thrown back in a sloppy ponytail. Her shoes were…absent, she was sock footed and her lips were a more natural tone than the previous orange.

She stood tall, fully aware that she was being judged, but she was…grinning, proudly and happily. And then she spoke, "Hello." Her voice was welcoming, but loud. Friendly, but blaring.

A few numb "Hello's," answered hers.

"So, you all comfortable?" she asked sincerely, walking around and checking with each group.

No one protested.

"Good!" she continued gaily, "We might be here a while." She began to walk towards where the teacher's table once was and, after pulling back a heavy purple curtain, sat happily behind a glossy black piano.

"Look," Hermione whispered as she pointed to Professor McGonagall and the other teachers leaning against the back wall. Usually teachers (in general) believe in the finest furniture for themselves, but they were all smiling, Professor Krehope biggest of all.

As Georgiana sat on the bench, she instantly stood up again, laughing. Addressing the entire room, she explained, "I'm sorry, sometimes I forget to introduce myself." She paused and took the center of the room again.

"My name is Georgiana, and I'm here simply to talk. Well, and to listen. I have four topics to cover with you, so you might call this a seminar," she looked everyone in the eyes as she went on, "this is what I do. I talk. I go to hundreds of schools and talk." As she was speaking her voice was honest and true, (and a bit repetitive).

She pulled a vibrant green stool out from against the wall and dragged it to the center. "So, feel free to ask me any questions. Anything at all, I'll answer honestly and bluntly. For example, I'll just tell you now, I'm not proper, so you can stop snubbing your nose at me," she looked directly at Malfoy, who reddened and huffed.

Georgiana stood up and walked over to him, sat down on the adjacent air-filled chair and asked him firmly, "So, what makes you so high and mighty?"

After a moment of shock, the entire hall waited earnestly for his answer, Malfoy spat out, "Let me get this straight, you don't go to school? What are you, dumb? Poor?"

Georgiana, to everyone's surprise, did not scoff or blush. She tilted her head and smiled, "You are judging me on my clothing, yes? And my occupation, maybe my lack of tact? And my possible deficiency of taught intelligence? Well, if that's all, I would stop while I was ahead if I was you."

She got up and sat on her cushioned stool again, speaking and spinning around leisurely, "As for his first question, I don't go to school. I take my courses through correspondence. I am not dumb, actually, I'm a year ahead of what I would be had I lead a normal life. And thirdly, I am not rich in anything I don't want to be."

She turned her stool back to Malfoy, and looking him straight in the eye, said, "You think I'm poor in my dress. I would agree with you. You think I'm poor in money. I can't deny that I'm not. But what really aggravates me is that you think I'm poor in everything else due to these two…_unnecessary_ things."

Smiling and spreading her arms around her, she continued, "I get to do what I love everyday of my life, and I work hard for it. I have friends, though I see them very seldom, and I get to make new ones today with all of you. So," Georgiana turned back towards Malfoy, "if you want to call me poor, so be it."

Georgiana got up and strolled as she spoke, "Now, about those four topics, here they are: One, society. Two, music. Three, Muggles and Four, well, let's keep you guessing on that one, hmm?" She smiled teasingly, but not meanly.

"Alright, number one: society. Well, you just saw a good example, didn't you? Judgment. Anybody got something to say about that?"

Nobody moved, except to direct looks of uncertainty to each other.

"_Alll_right, I'm sorry if I scared any of you but really, I don't bite. Well, nibble a little, but not bite," she continued jokingly, only winning a few smiles. It wasn't enough for her, she wanted a happy audience, a participating and enjoying audience.

"I'll start. People judge others on their race, religion, nationality, social standing…." she trailed off, letting her listeners minds' wander. "Can't you guys think of anything else?"

"If they have magic or not?" Luna answered at full volume, making her friends jump.

Georgiana smiled, recognizing her, "Hi, Luna! Yeah, that one works, thanks. Anyone else?"

"How much money they have?" Ron shouted out, a bit braver since someone had already gone first.

Georgiana nodded, "Yep, yep, yep. C'mon guys, keep 'em coming!"

"How smart they are!" Hermione added. The student body began to shout a few, most of them glad just to yell for once in school.

Georgiana waved her hands to quiet the room and pressed on, "Isn't funny how the things people use to categorize other people are things that _can't_ be helped? So I'm a girl, can't help it, I was born that way. So I'm pale, sorry, I didn't have a choice in that. So I'm not wealthy, I can still live though. Don't you all _see_?" she demanded, her voice climbing, "All these judgments, all these accusations, it doesn't do any good, it doesn't change what's already _there_."

She hopped off of her stool, now clambering dangerously to stand on top of it. It wiggled precariously, but she didn't slide down.

"What does matter, the _only_ thing that matters, is if someone would save me should I fall," she paused, breathing deeply as she kept her balance.

"I'm not going to fall, but if I should, would you save me?" she asked the entire hall quietly.

* * *

**Yeah, there's more coming up. I know this is kind of a random event, but what's life without it? **


	31. Chapter 31

A Continued Chapter 31.

**To begin this chapter without stalling would be nice. But alas, I must speak my mind. **

**Just for the record, what I write doesn't only pertain to Hogwarts students. I'm using Hogwarts as a metaphor, like the houses represent something in reality. As to what that is, it's something different for everyone.**

**Alright, I'll shove it now.

* * *

**

Everyone was dead silent in the Great Hall. No one moved, no one spoke, they merely pondered it over. Someone they barely knew, would they save them? The instant answer was 'yes', but as Georgiana tottered there in front of them, no one had moved.

Swiftly someone from the back, a girl unknown to the majority of the student body, clambered through the crowd to reach Georgiana. She reached her hands out toward her, out for Georgiana to use to drop from the stool safely. She did, and embraced the girl devotedly.

"Thank you," Georgiana whispered, but everyone heard it clearly. "What's your name?"

"Colette Scrosey."

"Colette, you are amazing. What house are you in?"

"Does it matter?"

"Touché, but why won't you tell?"

"They'll judge me," Colette admitted meekly. Her large brown eyes were downcast and set so.

"You are ashamed if it?"

"A little." Her voice was barely audible.

"Why?"

Colette scanned the eager viewing audience before saying softly, "I'm invisible here."

"But I see you right now," Georgiana said, but she was just prompting Colette to continue.

"I'm in Gryffindor." (Here our trio and friends sat up straighter to hear).

"And you're _ashamed_?"

"Yeah, because no one expects it." Colette's eyes were fixed on Georgiana's as her voice faded.

"Colette, look at me. You are the bravest person here, because you don't let the majority affect the way you live your life. Thank you for saving me today." With that, Colette smiled for the first time since her arrival at Hogwarts and strolled back to chair.

Georgiana addressed the assembly again, "Where is someone from Slytherin?"

A large number of hands levitated from the far left-corner. "Can you come here?" Georgiana asked a boy, roughly seventeen years old and huskily handsome. He sauntered over to her, a cocky grin fixed on his face.

"Do you know Colette Scrosey?" she asked him innocently.

"Yeah."

"No, not her face. Do you know her personally?"

"Well, no." His face was falling from its smirk.

"Is there a certain reason for that?"

"Well, she's in Gryffindor-"

"Aren't most classes set up Gryffindor with Slytherin?"

"Well, yeah, but-"

"And isn't she in your year?"

"Well, _yeah_, but-"

"But what? Explain to me why it was impossible for you to take five minutes out of your busy schedule and ask her what her name was. Please, enlighten me."

His face reddened and his arms slid into his pockets, "Well, she's in Gryf-,"

"Yes, we've established her house. Is that your reason? Honestly?"

His eyes mutely studied the floor as he nodded guiltily.

"So, would you all agree that house is something people judge?"

The entire audience mimicked the Slytherin's remorseful nod. Georgiana returned to her stool and sat down as she lectured again, "You see, you all do it. Dogs don't do it, cats don't do it, horses don't do it, dragons don't do it. Why does the human race have to degrade itself?"

"I think it's because we're a selfish species. There's no cure for it, but there is a simple medication. It must be given daily." She pause to let her words sink a little, then, "Did you hear that? 'Given daily', not 'taken daily'."

"And so I'll tell you it. It's kindness. Compassion, sympathy, whatever it takes to treat someone else with anything other than looking right through." The assembly was on edge, no one said a word.

Georgiana spun around a few times on her stool, giggling at the speed. "Oh, let's get back to something entertaining, shall we?" She bounced out of her chair and skipped over to the piano.

"Bipolar?" Ron whispered to Harry, who failed to repress a chuckle.

She spoke again, "Topic two time: music."

Those were the last words uttered for the next peaceful fifteen minutes. Georgiana played music, humorous music, deeply regretful music, and every shade of gray in-between. No one could speak for fear of missing one note.

When at last she let the last chord sing beneath her fingers, everyone exploded with applause, whistling, yelling, anything really to express amusement. She stood, smiled, and returned to her stool, her addressees sitting still now to hear _her_ thoughts, _her_ opinions.

"I can't say anything to define music. Happy? No, some of the best songs make you cry. Sad? No, music is the truest contentment I've ever felt. So this lecture is relatively short." She stood again, meandering through the little sittings of teens.

"I believe the…_unsurpassable_ thing about music is that it makes everyone listening feel the same way, and yet separately too. When I listen to a slow, lovey song, I feel regret while others hold hands. I used to wonder why, I tried to pinpoint it, but I can't. And that's simply because music, though heard through the same ears that everyone has, is interpreted so differently by each person."

Georgiana sat down on her stool again, and after a weighty breath, opened her eyes and looked around the people before her. Then she jumped up and clapped her hands, proclaiming, "Who loves ice cream?"

* * *

**Georgiana's piano presentation consists of 'Rowena's Theme' and 'Practice, Practice, Practice' from the movie Mr. Holland's Opus, then to end her performance she played a piano version of the theme song to the movie 'The Patriot'. Please listen to the entire songs if the pleasure appeals to you. **

**Please also accept my sincerest apologies, this seminar is going to cover three chapters instead of the intended two. **


	32. Chapter 32

Just When You Thought It Was Over, There's Another Chapter 32.

**Well, well, well, would ya look at that? This writer just can't shut it! **

**Just give me a minute to set some things straight, alright? Good. **

**If any of you out there are reading this with some amount of frustration, I'm sorry. It's unbelievably fun to prattle on in the beginning of chapters. I just imagine you now, hunched over in your chair, your anxious hand ready to scroll down to the story, but you just can't stop reading this little blabber. Feel free to groan loudly at your computer, it's okay, I won't hear it. But it's fun just the same visualizing the groan, maybe a stomp of the foot, or perhaps just the scrolling down angrily because you believe you've just been insulted. This is not the case, I am not insulting, but merely enjoying my envision of your irritation. Thank you! **

**Enjoy, groan, stomp, whatever.

* * *

**

A few hands rose, accompanied by a few joyous shouts. "Ice cream! Awesome!" "Do you have any non-fat slow-churned vanilla?" "Wait, I'm lactose intolerant!"

Georgiana grinned as she headed to the end of the hall, near the door. "I've prepared enough ice cream and cake for everyone! Just please form a line-." Her sentence was cut off from the abrupt movement in the hall and the sudden formation of a row directly in front of her hand.

"Oh, well, that'll work! Enjoy everyone!" Georgiana commanded as the Great Hall doors opened and silver trolleys of magnificent flavors of rich ice cream and crumbling cake glowed in the afternoon sunlight pouring through the windows. To some, this was heaven. To others, a creamy dream.

Once everyone had seated themselves again, Georgiana resumed her position in the center of the room atop her stool. "So, everyone good?"

Meaningful groans of happiness spilled from everywhere.

"Good! I figured I do a little comedy for you all while you ate. Alright, here goes," she prompted, standing up and walking around.

"Comedy is going to bring about the cure for all horribly long and monotonous Mondays."

"So now you are thinking, 'Oh, well, it's Tuesday you blonde,' and though this may be the case, I have wonderful news, you can laugh on every day of the week, seven days a week, which is.…" Georgiana paused and counted her fingers. She then began to write in the air with her finger, muttering things like, "Carry the zero" and "Add that to that, getting this." Finally she resumed her place, and concluded after careful thinking, "A lot of weeks in a year!" Many people laughed.

"So _now_ you may ask, well, why did I indicate horrible Mondays and not the rest of the week? I'll tell you why, it's because Monday is the first day of the working week, so no one is ever in a good mood. This would be why I wanted to do my speech today instead of Thursday because by Thursday, everyone is just totally wiped out from a boring Monday through Wednesday. That's also why they say 'TGIF' so much on Thursday by 'accident'," Georgiana put in some helpful air quotes with her fingers, "because everyone wishes that the boredom would just stop then, but it doesn't and why it's especially important for Mondays to be hilarious. But since Monday has already slowly gone by, here I am on Tuesday, the next most boring day. Though there have been many strong opinions behind Wednesday being the most boring day, at least by Wednesday you've gotten into the swing of things a little. So you see, by Tuesday, you are still bored, but not to the extreme of a Monday."

Everyone was roaring, it was just too funny when Georgian said this all in two breaths.

"Now that _that_ is cleared up," (although it looked like Crabbe and Goyle were even more confused, then again, that doesn't take much), "I must introduce a very crucial group people to help prove my point. They are _responsible_ for drawing out Mondays and making them seem longer by spreading their tedious and unhelpful advice those who never wanted it. These people are known as 'pessimists', or, in simpler terms, 'bums'. Sadly, they need overdoses of comedy on Mondays but alas, they refuse even to smile."

Georgiana gave everyone a look of concern, then pointed to the frowning Malfoy, "This is an example of a bum." Again the audience split open laughing. Malfoy looked livid as he grit his teeth down to keep from hexing the smiling, innocent Georgiana.

"I…think…I'm…in…love," Fred wheezed.

"I…saw…her…first," George tried to protest, and he 'accidentally' flicked ice cream in his brother's face.

"It's okay," she continued, patting the tense Malfoy on the shoulder, "Many people are bums. Why, there's one in every family. Two in mine, actually. Here, take some Toadstool Softener." She began to hand him a lemon meringue pie from one of the trolleys, then at the last possible second shoved it in his face.

"You could use a dose of humility too," Georgiana kindly explained to the furious Malfoy, who was trying to scrape out the frosting out of his face.

Across the hall Snape was snubbing all the smiles in the room, and a second later a pie smacked him in the face. He heatedly wiped his face with his black sleeve, making the entire hall bellow louder with laughter.

"You too," Georgiana clarified at his defeated look. She returned to her stool, letting everyone finish as she began throwing pies here and there. Soon chaos spread, and there was scarcely anyone with a clean face.

"Alright, that's enough!" she yelled after ten minutes or so.

"On to topic three, Muggles." Everyone quieted down slowly. "Okay, who's got Muggle Studies? Raise your hands!"

And twelve proud hands surfaced. **(Recall chapter 1)**

"Wonderful! Now, does anyone have a problem with Muggles?" Nothing in the room moved. "Oh, c'mon, there's got to be some bums out there with issues. Let's be honest people, where are you?" With the speed of a crippled snail, a large group of about thirty Slytherins (and those from other houses) stood.

For the first time Georgiana was not smiling. She was not patting anyone on the shoulder or chuckling happily. She stayed on her stool, unmoving as she ordered in a soft voice, "Sit down. All of you."

They did as they were told, many a smirk upon their faces.

Trying to resume her sunny disposition, she asked kindheartedly, "Does anyone have a problem with me?"

Immediately Malfoy stood and the audience giggled. "That's okay if you do," Georgiana went on, "you have a reason. By the way, there's still a spot of pie in your hair. But does anyone else? Be completely honest guys, why live life in a lie?"

Slowly about five or six students rose, their sitting friends looking elsewhere.

Then she laughed. Not her happy, sunny laugh, but a black laugh. "Well, who would guess that I'm a Muggle?"


	33. Chapter 33

A Further Chapter 33.

**Alright, honestly, how many people had the biggest ice cream craving after that? Admit it, you did! (Sorry if you actually are lactose intolerant, no offense intended.)**

**As much as it would please me to get on with the story, I have to mention a little something. **

**Any of you out there sick my ranting have a little something on their foreheads. Here, lean closer to your computer. Ah….there it is, the big 'L' for 'loser'. One, because my rants are the coolest thing since cubed ice. Second because I bet over half of you out there actually leaned forward, as if I could see through computers! (Don't tell anyone, it's my only superpower, I'm going to be _Transparent Technology Girl._)**

**Well, until that happens, I'll let you all get back to the story.

* * *

**

A few mouths dropped, but Hermione's whispered, "Oh, I knew it!"

Georgiana was smiling again, but darkly as she lectured, "I'm sure that there are those of you out there whose parents would love to hurt me, maybe my family too. There's not much I can do to prevent that I guess, because it's _obviously_ my fault I am the way that I am."

She went back to her stool, pointing at it. "I'm sure there are those that, instead of catching me, would push me. And that's when I have to ask, aren't we all human?"

Georgiana continued to walk around, "Am I any less than a human? Here, you," she pointed to Pansy Parkinson. "Stand up." Pansy did as she was told, but she as glaring at Georgiana with an indescribable hatred.

Georgiana held out her arm. "Hit me."

Pansy was taken aback, "Excuse me?"

"Well, from that glare on your face I'm sure that I deserve to be hit. After all, I _am_ a Muggle, and you want to hit me. So, go ahead. Leave a bruise."

Pansy looked around her for support from her fellow Slytherins. They were smiling even darker than what Georgiana had done. Pansy turned back at Georgiana and raised her arm, slapping it down on Georgiana's wrist with enough effort to cause her to stumble backwards.

"I can't believe…you actually did that," Georgiana huffed back to her stool. Pansy smiled and sat back down, receiving a few pats on her back.

"So who is less human, me or her?" Georgiana demanded furiously as she rubbed her wrist. "Is it I, the victim, or her, the abuser? Do you remember what we said thirty minutes ago? That people are so judging? _This_," she held out her reddened injury, "is what happens when you judge. _This_ is the result from that. And _this_ is why you all need to _stop_ _it_."

"Because today it's a slap. Tomorrow it's a kill. It's just a ladder, growing higher and higher with every bad decision neglecting the underlying question: _Is this right? _Is it right to hit someone because of what they can't help? Is it right to forget that we are all humans, regardless of everything and anything else? And is it right to abuse someone who has only given you kindness, (or in this case cake and ice cream)?"

Georgiana sat back down on her stool, pleading, "Just please, _please_, promise me that none of you, no matter _what_, forget to ask yourselves that."

"Now, I said that we would discuss four topics. We've covered Society, Music, and Muggles. But what I didn't tell you is the last topic. Want to know what it is?" Her sunny grin was back, it was just a little worn.

"You tell me," she said, leaning back on her stool, waiting. Everyone looked around, confused, what did she say?

"You…tell…me," she repeated, spinning around easily. "What do _you_ want to talk about?"

No one really had anything they wanted to talk about, well, at least anything they could think about right now.

A small hand rose from the far right corner of the room. Georgiana got up and walked over to the little boy, most likely a first year, as he stood and asked her in the most polite voice he could muster, "How do you make them hear you?"

She smiled and knelt down to his eye level, "_What_ do you want to know?"

"How do you make them all hear you? I never get listened to like you do," he asked again barely above a whisper.

"You really want to know?" Georgiana asked, raising her eyebrow to make his small face smile.

"Yeah."

"It's really simple. I believe what I say, so I make them listen. When I'm this confident in what I do, when I'm one hundred percent convinced that I can make a difference, I do all I can to make them hear me, see?"

The little boy nodded and resumed his seat, happy with his answer. Georgiana began to walk back, then she spun around on her heal and asked him, "What do you want people to hear you say anyway?"

He smiled, "That I'm here. I'm here and ready to make a friend."

Georgiana, (and just about everyone else in the room), gave him a wide smile before she asked loudly, "Anyone else want a friend?"

Colette Scrosey, the shy girl from Gryffindor, stood and walked over to the small boy. "Hi, I'm Colette," she said.

"Hey, I'm Daniel."

Georgiana strolled back to her seat, "Does anybody else have anything they want to talk about? Parents? Teachers?", (a slight gruff came from the professors), "Friends? Family? Whether celery or carrots are better?"

Beatrice shyly raised her hand, and being called on instantly, asked, "How come you're so confident?"

Georgiana had to stop and think for a moment before answering, "Besides the fact that I've done this a million times? I-"

Her sentence was cut off as the Great Hall doors banged open, nearly hitting the teachers, ("Oh c'mon, just a little to the left," Fred had muttered). In walked none other but Lucius Malfoy with a trail of timid adults in his wake. The School Board.

"Can we help you?" Dumbledore addressed the board, or in better terms, Lucius.

Lucius' eyes were set on Georgiana's. The entire hall watched as they stood, neither backing down or blinking for fear of loosing their ground. Draco had never seen anyone hold his father's eyes that long, and it plain scared him.

"Lucius?" Dumbledore kindly asked. Finally Lucius broke the tie, leaving Georgiana the win.

"Headmaster, it has come to our attention that a _Muggle_," his eyes swiftly met Georgiana's again, who was frowning at the way he had spat the word, "is on Hogwarts premises. Now, I ask you-,"

"Lucius, I'm sorry to inform you that, when I asked the rest of the board, they approved the lecture to be given by Ms. LeWispon. You were absent that day, but it would still have been a majority authorization. Perhaps," Dumbledore tipped his nose with his finger knowingly after Lucius had glared at the board in the light of this news to him, "perhaps you would like to stay and hear the final segment?"

Lucius looked again the Headmaster, a man he's always hated but only because of the fear for him, and coldly returned, "I'm afraid I can't, many plans back up at the house-,"

"Then I wonder why you are here on a matter that was already settled," Dumbledore interjected courteously.

Lucius' face paled only slightly, (this was difficult to see as he was already of a sickly, sallow constitution), and began again, "I'm sorry, but I can't, a million things to d-,"

"Why don't you stay?" Georgiana asked as she strode over to the adults, her gut twisting but her face composed.

Lucius' cold eyes met her testing ones, and for a few minutes they let the tension build before Dumbledore asked again, "Why, we have a chair right here, hm? Perhaps it would be best to stay and have a slice of this delicious lemon drop cake, it's absolutely magnificent."

"It would be a pleasure," Lucius' frosty tone replied as Georgiana smiled victoriously and sat back on her stool. The rest of the school board stood awkwardly against the back of the hall, ready to listen.

Just as Georgiana was seated and ready to talk again, she opened her mouth, then snapped it shut. She gave her audience a crooked half-smile before changing topics, "Now, I'm sorry, but I feel it would be inadequate to continue before presenting another topic for our school board to observe."

She strolled through the room, "How many of you can guess why that man," she pointed at Lucius, "didn't want to listen to me?"


	34. Chapter 34

An Additional Chapter 34.

**Well, in order to keep from doing my homework, I have made the innovative resolution to procrastinate like a wussy and update my chapters on the Great and Beloved FanFiction. **

**I must also make a note to readers that I'm almost done ranting, and as you can obviously see, I have slowly cut down on my lectures in each chapter. Seriously, each one gets shorter! **

**So, alas, I must return to the story without ranting. Sigh.

* * *

**

There was a soft ripple of amusement that spread through the Hall, for who couldn't see what was so evident?

A teen somewhere in the back called out, "Because he's an adult!"

This was, apparently, exactly what our Georgiana wanted to hear. She smiled and turned her back on Mr. Malfoy, addressing her smiling audience, "Yes, probably." But she didn't say anything else, which confused her spectators a tad.

Why wasn't she lecturing? Why wasn't she shoving all her opinions under his uncommonly bony nose? Why was she _stopping_ before the reasoning and truth was let out?

Draco seemed quite content with this.

Georgiana sat down on her stool, grinning cheerfully at her perplexed audience. Finally, Luna stood up from her spot and walked over to Georgiana, asking politely, "Why aren't you giving him your sermon?"

Georgiana shook her head, explaining, "I don't need to. You see, you guys are just bursting to elaborate, right?" A general nod vigorously came from the school. "So why bother?"

"To set him straight!" Someone shouted from a group of Hufflepuffs.

Georgiana looked in the direction the cry had erupted, "But why would I do that?"

"Well, it's what you do," Luna added nicely.

Georgiana tilted her head thoughtfully to the side, then asked, "Is that what _I_ do, or you?"

She hopped off her stool and returned to her state in front of Mr. Malfoy. "Why did you all feel the need to 'set him straight'?"

"Cuz he's a tightwad," Fred muttered.

George attached to this lovely compliment, "Personally, I believe he has a broom up his-,"

"See? My work here is done," Georgiana concluded. "Here, you," she motioned toward Bea, Frankie, Harry, Ron, Fred, George, and Hermione, (Luna was already beside Georgiana), "Come here."

They warily pressed through the crowd to reach the girl's place facing a snide Mr. Malfoy. "What would you say to him?"

Fred and George shared a look before Fred spoke, "There are many ways to describe 'self-centered', and the very first is you."

"Or," George said as an afterthought, "In the dictionary there's a picture of you right beside the definition of a-,"

"No, no, no, you won't do. Please go sit down," Georgiana dismissed the delighted twins with a wave of her hand. The rest of the group stayed there, and when she saw this, she asked them, "What about any of you?"

"Well," Hermione began in a business-like tone that caused many an eye to roll, "He's judging you because you're a girl, you're young, and mostly because you are a Muggle." Georgiana happily released the rest of the group as she took her stool again.

"That's really all I have for today. But just to wrap things up, I have one more treat for you," Georgiana ran towards the piano and disappeared behind the large purple velvet curtain. A minute or so later she appeared with her hands full with a box, (quite heavy from the way she carried it). Immediately a few nearby students rushed forward to help her, many from various houses and backgrounds.

But when they grabbed for the box, it surprised them with it's light weight. Why, was there anything even _in_ there? The few students shook it suspiciously and after hearing objects shuffle from within, they hastily set it down and opened it.

Inside this box were about three hundred fortune cookies, enough for the entire school. Immediately the students who had grabbed the box began to hand them out to the rushing children, (once it was learnt that food was inside, there seemed to be a rush of kids).

Meanwhile, Georgiana slipped past the crowd, a cookie clasped in her hand. Confidently but kindly, she approached Mr. Malfoy and handed him a cookie. "Sorry about what those twins said," she apologized.

Mr. Malfoy, taken aback a little (maybe a lot), nodded and snatched the cookie as he briskly exited the school.

"Such a shame that is over," Professor Dumbledore came and stood beside Georgiana as she watched Mr. Malfoy brush her aside with a look of hurt on her face, "You are quite a speaker, Ms. LeWispon."

"Thank you, Headmaster, but I really should get going,-" she tried to escape, but his gentle thin hand caught her shoulder.

"Why, didn't your uncle tell you? You are free to stay until the end of the year!" Dumbledore's joyous blue eyes almost made her shiver.

"Stay?" she whispered as a boy ran into the side of her, carrying two cookies for him and his new friend.

"Did you get me one Jon?" a much younger and mousy girl called from against the wall.

"Got one!" Jon called to his sister. Georgiana turned and saw that, though from different houses, they treated each other well. Had _she_ done that?

"Oh yes, I think it would be exemplary if you were to stay and see out your teachings. After all, you don't have any more lectures to give, do you?" Dumbledore asked a question to which he already knew the answer.

"No, but my frie-,"

"You'll make friends, here, I'm sure of it. Why, it looked to me as if you have a few disciples already! Say, may I-?" Dumbledore motioned to the box of cookies.

Georgiana nodded as the tall nimble man left her alone with her panicking thoughts. The last time she had seen her friends, why, it's been at least two years…

Shaking her head to keep from tearing up, she headed up the billion stairs to her uncle's classroom, then into the adjoining bedroom which was already set up for her.

So _he_ knew. So _Dumbledore_ knew. Why didn't _she_ get a choice in her own life?

With that, she collapsed on the bed, weary and sick of it all. All that ran through her head were memories, (the very few), of her friends, laughing, smiling, not worrying about kids are taking notes of what she said in their heads…

But most of all she missed Derek.

* * *

"The absolute nerve of that girl! To think, she, a _Muggle_, at our school!" Lucius Malfoy raged as he stepped into the living room in his mansion. Flinging his coat dismissively at a servant, he stomped to his desk to begin his crusade against those, those _Mudbloods_.

He stopped for a moment as the fortune cookie fell out of his pocket. Warily he picked it up and cracked it open, eagerly pulling the paper from within. Astounded, he read:

_Open minds have ears and eyes, all the better to make one wise. _

Sniffing his contempt for the girl, he crumbled the cookie into the garbage can. But the paper, he would never admit it, he kept in his top drawer. Something about it seemed to be….in waiting, as if it was a real fortune.

About to ponder on this saying, the door flew open, his wife clicking her heels to his desk. "Well? What are you going to do? Surely you don't mean t-,"

"Don't worry dear," Lucius snarled, "She'll be gone within a week."


	35. Chapter 35

Finally We Move On To Chapter 35.

**Now that the sermon is over, what is to become of our trio? Of Bea? Of those saucy twins? Of Georgiana?**

**Well, that's for me to know and for you to find out.**

**Or, in simpler terms, for me to figure out and for you to laugh your butt off at.

* * *

**

After everyone had hastily opened their fortunes and made crazy predictions on the possible outcomes, the students lazily sat around the Hall.

"Oh, no way!" Ron came into the group, his fortune gripped in his hand.

"What?" Hermione asked, content with her own fortune.

"My fortune says, 'Even a blind bat can find a fruitful harvest'."

Fred laughed, "Ron, that doesn't mean you're going to lose your eyesight."

Ron rolled his eyes, "I _know_, but then what in name of Merlin does it mean?" Everyone turned to see Hermione's twisting face.

She noticed. "Why do you think I know?" she demanded, "It's not like-,"

"You're the smartest witch in the school?" George opted.

"Or you're the brightest girl in the world?" Fred tried.

"That your IQ is probably higher than Merlin's?"

"Or maybe Dumbledore's?"

"Probably," George admitted.

"That's what I'm saying," Fred pointed out.

Hermione shook her head, the twins were hopeless, "Maybe it means you have to use other senses rather than eyesight to discover something."

"Told ja," Fred muttered.

Ron shrugged his shoulders and pocketed the fortune, "Where do we have to go now?"

Harry looked around, everyone was still in the Hall and it was quarter to five. "I don't think we go anywhere," he observed, "It's almost dinner time anyway."

Bea rested a hand in Harry's palm, whispering in his ear, "Want to read mine?"

He nodded and felt the thin paper slip into his hand. It read: 'A friend of yours in in dire need.'

Harry's puzzled face turned to see hers. "Who do you think?"

She shrugged, "I don't know, but maybe it's a dud. I mean, come on, how does this little paper affect anything?"

Just then the tables began to swing from the walls to line up in their four rows. The comfy chairs and decorations flew into the large box, all of them shrinking to fit until everything was as it usually was.

The teachers took their spots at the head table and the kids took theirs below. Within a few minutes dinner had appeared on golden platters and it was all the kids could do but to fall into the old routine that frequently took over them. Scoop, eat, scoop, eat, sip, eat…

But upstairs Georgiana had not moved from her bed. Professor Krehope had noticed the blank spot beside him which he had set for her, and he knew exactly where she was.

After politely excusing himself, he headed up the mountainous stairs and sat beside her. "I'm sorry," he started, but she stood up and started fuming.

"Sorry? Uncle, I had wanted to go back home-,"

"Home?" Uncle asked quietly, examining the corner of the quilt, "Honey, you're an orphan-,"

"I know!" she shouted. Then quietly she added, "I know, but Uncle, all my friends are there. That's the only place I've ever considered home. I know all that you've done for my speaking career, but for goodness sakes, I'm only sixteen!"

She plopped down on the bed as he responded, "I know, honey, but I can't watch you go back there."

"Why?" she exasperatedly asked, leaning up on her elbow.

Uncle sighed, "Because he's gone."

There was no need to say who 'he' was.

"Gone where?" her voice cracked.

"He eloped with some girl in a hotel diner." Uncle rubbed a hand on her shoulder for the next hour as she silently cried her heart out. The tears were staining his robe, but that was alright. She was the closest thing he had to a daughter.

"Want some dinner?" Uncle asked a little later.

She shook her head. There wasn't enough pudding in the world to mend a broken heart.

Uncle sighed, "You need to come down and make an announcement to the kids."

"About what?"

Uncle rubbed his neck as he answered, "About you staying. For a while."

At this she sat straight up, "Uncle, how long will I have to stay?"

Uncle shrugged, "It's up to Dumbledore. And the students."

With that, Georgiana fell back into the pillows. _Sure_, she thought, _leave a decision up to the kids. That's _one _way keep me here forever.

* * *

_

Derek rubbed the anxious crease from Anna Maria's forehead as they sat in the bus stop booth alone. "Are you sure about this?" Derek asked.

They had been gone almost two weeks, but without a doubt they were the best in his life. He mutely rubbed his wedding ring between his fingers as he watched her slide her own up and down her fingers. "Yes," Anna Maria whispered, "My family deserves to know. Besides, I think Gran will find you…tolerable."

He rolled his eyes, "Thank goodness, that might be the best I get."

She rubbed his cheek, "They'll get over it. I did."

With that, the bus rolled up into the station and the couple wordlessly clasped hands and rode toward, as Derek referred to them, 'the unsuspecting in-laws.'


End file.
